Repercussions
by French Pony
Summary: Nine years after the War of the Ring, a terrible castastrophe tests the courage and resolve of the good folk of Hobbiton.
1. The Free Fair

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of J. R. R. Tolkien, nor any of the various dramatic incarnations thereof. No profit is being made from this work.

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Foreword

Welcome once again. I'm going to start off this time with a warning. "Repercussions" is not a happy story. Some very traumatic events take place, with very real and adult consequences. If such themes disturb you while you are reading, I will not be insulted if you choose to read something else for a while.

"Repercussions" is based on a true story. It happened nearly sixty years ago, and I will tell you a little about it when this story is over. This story also has roots in my love of codas and epilogues. What happens to characters after the rumbling stops? How do they pick up the pieces and continue on with their lives? Reaction is not just a single, discrete act. It is also an ongoing process of adaptation and mending. Much depends on character, and much on circumstance. Everyone's reaction process is different and is a vital part of their story. 

At one point in this story, there is a hymn sung. I am going to toot my own horn just a little and announce that, though I am ordinarily not much of a poet, I wrote that hymn my very own self. It doesn't yet have a particular tune, but it is in the Common Meter, so you can sing it to any Common Meter tune you like. The tunes to "Amazing Grace" and "Auld Lang Syne" will work well. The story is set in the year 1428, Shire Reckoning. The War of the Ring has been over for nine years. It begins on 1 Lithe, that is to say, Mid-year Day in summer, at the Free Fair in Hobbiton. Enjoy the story, and I will return at the end.

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1. The Free Fair

"Ooh, Mamma, the Fair!" Seven-year-old Elanor Gamgee's eyes were as huge and as round as saucers as she pulled at her mother's hand. The Free Fair had begun the night before, officially opened by Samwise Gamgee, newly elected Mayor of Hobbiton, and Elanor's beloved father. Elanor and her brothers, Frodo-lad and Merry-lad, and her sister Little Rose, had woken up at dawn clamoring to be taken to the Fair. Rosie had had her hands full that morning trying to wash four squirming Hobbit children, but at last the task had been accomplished, and the family had set out.

The Fairgrounds were packed with merry, laughing Hobbits. Craft workers had set up small booths, and packs of children had gathered around each one, gazing in awe at the blacksmith beating hot iron into fanciful shapes, crowding around a lady who was embroidering blouses, or playing with the wood shavings dropped by carvers. Bakers wandered through the crowd with trays of hot pies for sale. At one end of the Fairgrounds, several sturdy lads were competing to climb a greased pole, while yet more children bobbed for apples. Small orchestras had struck up at several corners, and the din of music, laughter and shouting tied all the colors and smells together into a most delightful whirl.

"Elanor! Frodo-lad! Don't run too far ahead!" Rosie called. In truth, though, she could hardly blame them for being so excited, especially as they had gotten a rather late start that morning. Once again, Rosie had felt the familiar sickness, and she was sure that, come next winter, a fifth child would be added to the Gamgee family. Fortunately, the sickness had been over with quickly this morning, and Rosie was free to enjoy the excitement, one arm balancing baby Merry-lad on her hip, the other firmly grasping Little Rose as she toddled along.

Elanor and Frodo-lad dashed through the crowd, weaving in and out of the forest of legs, until they ran right into one large pair. "What's this?" a strong young voice boomed, and Elanor found herself swung high into the air.

"Uncle Pippin!" she squealed.

"Well, if it isn't Elanor Gamgee," Pippin Took said with a smile. "You're growing like a weed. Why, soon you'll be taller than I am, and no mistake!"

"Then she'll have to catch Merry," one of the young ladies at Pippin's side laughed. She bent down and dragged a wriggling Frodo-lad from his hiding place beneath her skirts.

"Auntie Diamond," he giggled shyly. The other lady frowned at Frodo-lad in deep concentration.

"No," she said. "Look at the feet on this one. He'll be the one to challenge my Merry for height."

"You're just being silly, Auntie Estella," Elanor said. "Can I sit top of the world, Uncle Pippin?"

"Ready? Up you go," Pippin replied, as he swung the little girl to his shoulders. He grasped Elanor's ankles as she flung her arms out wide.

"I can see the whole world!" she crowed.

"And I can see your mother. Good day, Mistress Rose," Pippin said politely.

"Pippin, Diamond, hello," Rosie said warmly, kissing them lightly on the cheeks. She turned to Estella. "How are you feeling these days, dear?"

Estella gave a small smile. "Better, thank you, Rosie. I did feel a little green this morning, but it's not nearly so bad as it has been."

"It gets easier with each child," Rosie said. "The first one is always the worst. Why, when I was expecting Elanor --" She stopped at the horrified look Pippin was giving her. Diamond and Estella laughed.

"Don't worry, Pippin," Diamond said. "With any luck, it'll be a bit before we have to worry about that." Grasping Elanor's ankles lightly for support, Diamond sprang to her tiptoes and kissed Pippin firmly on the mouth. 

Estella scooped Little Rose into her arms. "We shall talk more later, Mistress Rose," she said. "I'm sure you'll have much wisdom for me."

"Indeed," said Rosie. "We shall share it together." All three women beamed. Pippin cleared his throat.

"Er, yes," he said. Rosie patted his arm sympathetically.

"Have you seen Sam?" she asked.

"Ah, Sam," said Pippin, glad to be back on familiar ground. "Master Samwise is just getting ready to judge the archery contest over in the west field. My estimable cousin is among the competition, which is how I have the honor of squiring these two lovely young ladies around the fair."

"And a fine job you're doing, Pip," Diamond said.

"Thank you. We were just on our way to the Show Tent, Mistress Rose. Would you care to join us?" 

"I certainly would," Rosie replied. "In fact, I was heading there myself. The Gaffer's entered some of his prize taters in the vegetable competition, and I sent a bottle of strawberry-rhubarb preserves."

"Then by all means, let us be off," Pippin said. The small party made their way through the crowd. As they passed the west field, they turned and waved to the archers gathered at the butts. Far off at the other end of the west field, Sam waved back. Merry put two fingers in his mouth and gave a piercing whistle, which Pippin returned, eliciting a squeal from Elanor atop his shoulders. In short order, they came to the enormous white tent at the south end of the Fairgrounds.

Inside, the smells of crowded hobbit bodies and of various livestock were so strong that the children pinched their noses. Pippin put Elanor on the ground. Elanor immediately tugged at Rosie's skirts. "Please, Mamma, may me and Frodo-lad go look at the rabbits?" she begged.

"Frodo-lad and I," Rosie corrected. "Yes, you may, but stay by the rabbits until one of us comes to get you." Once again, Elanor and Frodo-lad took off into the crowd. The adults and the two smaller children headed over to the corner where the cookery and vegetable contests would be held. They found old Gaffer Gamgee fussing over the display of potatoes, dusting them off and turning them so that they would be displayed to their best advantage. 

"Hello, young 'uns!" he called. "Come to see my prize taters, have you?"

"Gaffer, they can't be prize taters," Rosie giggled. "They haven't been judged yet."

"Oh, you're a sharp one, Rosie Cotton," the Gaffer said. "I've had prize taters these past ten Fairs. I know when a tater is prize and when it ain't."

"They are certainly bigger than last year's," Diamond said diplomatically. Rosie and Estella went to the cookery section, where Rosie found that her bottle of preserves had been labeled neatly and displayed in the center of a shelf. Pippin wandered over to a stack of barrels.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's a new idea they've had," the Gaffer said. "The barley and grapes have been so good these past seasons that there's a new competition for beer and cordials."

"Well, that's one change I approve of," Pippin laughed. "Now we'll know for certain where to find the best beer in the Shire!"

"That'll save you all those trips for comparing, will it?" Diamond asked.

"Absolutely. Merry and I won't have to waste time going from inn to inn. We'll find the best inn and stay there."

"Why, Peregrin Took!" Diamond cried, smiling to take the sting from her words.

"At your service, Diamond Took!" Pippin replied, and kissed her. The Gaffer wheezed with laughter.

The young couple's concentration was broken by a horn-blast from the other end of the tent. Rose and Estella hurried over. "The pony show's beginning!" Estella cried. "Let's collect the children and go see!"

"Would you like to see the show ponies, Gaffer?" Rose asked.

"Well, if you think I can leave my taters. . . "

"Gaffer, no one will touch your taters while you're looking at ponies," Rose assured him.

"All right, then," the Gaffer said. A thump against his leg startled him. "What? What's that?"

"G'ampa!" said Little Rose, clinging to her grandfather's knee. "Go see ponies, G'ampa!"

"All right, all right, Little Rose, we'll go see the ponies." The small party left the cookery stands, collected Elanor and Frodo-lad from the rabbit hutches, brushed them clean of the hay that was strewn all over the ground, and inserted themselves into the crowd surrounding the corral that filled one end of the enormous tent.

One by one, the sleek little ponies were trotted into the ring. They were made to walk, trot and gallop, one by one. The crowd was enchanted; the pony show was one of the most popular draws of the Free Fair. Elanor was drawn to a lovely little chestnut colt with a white star on his forehead. "Please, Mamma," she begged. "I'm big enough for a pony this year, aren't I?" 

"Of course not, Elanor," Rosie said. "That pony wouldn't even know you were on its back. I'll tell you when you're big enough for a pony of your own."

Diamond, meanwhile, had become enchanted by a dappled gray mare. Pippin followed her gaze and smiled. "I could talk to the handler afterward," he said. "You should have a riding pony anyway; the hills around Tuckborough are perfect for long rides with a picnic lunch. And you could take her to visit your parents in Long Cleeve without having to wait for the next trade wagon heading that way." Diamond nodded enthusiastically, never taking her eyes off of the dappled gray.

"Pippin!" a new voice called from the crowd. Pippin turned and waved to his sister Pervinca. Pervinca had taken in a group of children orphaned by the War and the hardship of Saruman's occupation of the Shire. She had brought them all with her to the Fair. The youngest of the sisters, Pimpernel, had come along as well, to help manage all the children. Diamond waved at her sisters-in-law, and she and Pippin cleared a space closer to the edge of the corral so that the children could see the ponies.

By this time, the pony show was in full swing, and it had captured the undivided attention of every hobbit in the Show Tent. No one wanted to miss a minute of the beautiful ponies, which was why no one noticed the fire.

It started quite small, no more than a lick or two of flame at the bottom of the tent near the show vegetables. Picking up a burst of energy from the hay on the floor, the flame strengthened and ran along the edge of the tent toward the barrels of beer and cordial. It needed little energy for a spark to leap and catch on one of the barrels on the ground.


	2. Baptism Of Fire

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2. Baptism of Fire

The archery contest was down to the quarter-finals. Merry Brandybuck narrowed his eyes in concentration as he aimed at the small gold circle at the heart of the target. Out of the corner of his eye, he registered Sam raising his white handkerchief. For a moment, all was still. Then, just as Sam dropped the handkerchief --

BOOM! The calm was shattered by the sound of a tremendous explosion. Everyone on the field whirled around, arrows flying off wildly, just in time to see a brilliant ball of flame ripple over the Show Tent. A second later, as stunned Hobbits raced toward the disaster, the Show Tent began to burn in furious earnest.

Merry was only dimly aware that he was running with all his strength toward the burning tent. Something banged against his hip, and he realized that it was the silver horn of Rohan, which he had worn that day for good luck. As he ran, he brought it to his lips and desperately blew the Horn-Call of Buckland. _Awake! Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes!_ Over and over he blew, until he reached the horrified crowd surrounding the tent.

Sam was mustering some of the stronger Hobbits into a bucket brigade, but the splashing buckets of water seemed pitifully small against the raging blaze. Merry gazed stupidly up at the fire for a moment, watching as it licked closer to the bright pennant that topped the tent. A clap on the shoulder from Sam ended his reverie.

"Get a bucket, Merry!" Sam shouted above the general din.

"What good would it do?" Merry shouted back. "The fire's too big already!"

"We have to keep it from spreading!" And then Sam was off, running deeper into the crowd.

Merry threw a bucket of water, and then another. It had no effect on the fire. His attention was drawn to the sidewalls of the tent, where he could see the silhouetted shapes of the trapped Hobbits inside, fighting to escape. As he watched, a fishing knife stabbed through the canvas of the tent and ripped a gash down the side. A sturdy young tween wriggled an arm and a leg through the slit. Merry grabbed his arm and hauled him out. He pulled out his own small pocket knife and sawed at the top of the slit. The lad with the fishing knife did the same, and together they opened up a hole in the tent big enough to allow some people to escape.

Merry realized that he knew some of the Hobbits escaping through the slit. With this realization, a horrible thought struck him. Hadn't Pippin and Diamond taken Estella to see the pony show? "Estella! Estella Brandybuck!" Merry called, as he ran through the growing crowd of escapees. "Pippin! Estella! Diamond! Where are you?"

Inside the tent, all was chaos. The initial shock of the explosion had knocked Rosie down, and she had lost her hold of both Little Rose and Merry-lad. Frantically, she cast around for her children. "Elanor! Frodo-lad! Where are you?" she called, her voice lost in the screaming press of bodies.

"Mamma!" Rosie turned and saw Frodo-lad clinging to Little Rose. She stumbled toward them, but was nearly trampled by a panicked pony that charged by. She fought her way to her children, and grasped one firmly in each hand. "Don't let go" she ordered them sharply.

A few feet away, Elanor picked herself up off the ground and looked for her Mamma. Her attention was drawn by one shrill howl that pierced through the rest of the shouting. Baby Merry-lad was sitting underneath the trampled-down gate of the corral, shrieking for their mother. Fighting down her own panic, Elanor crawled through the thicket of Hobbit and pony legs and scooped up her baby brother. Merry-lad squirmed in her arms. 

"Hold still," she ordered him. "We've got to find Mamma." But how could her Mamma find her in this crowd? The Gaffer had always told her that if she was ever lost, she should stay very still in one place until she was found, no matter how long it took. But the fire raging overhead terrified the little girl. She desperately wanted to get out of the tent, but what if her Mamma never found her because she had moved? The only thing Elanor knew for certain was that she must not let go of Merry-lad. As she clutched him as hard as she could, the crowd made her decision for her. A pony and several handlers dashed by her, and she was borne along in their wake. Now that she was moving, she had to find her Mamma and get out of the tent.

Estella stumbled blindly through the mob. There was a sharp pain in her scalp, and her vision was flooded with red. She needed to find her friends, and she needed to get out, but most of all, she needed a quiet moment to investigate whatever had happened to her. The cordial barrels had exploded; she was sure of that. She had turned around to ask Diamond something about one of the ponies, but she hadn't gotten the chance. There had been a tremendous bang, and then it seemed as if the entire vegetable stand had rocketed directly toward her. Something had hit her square on, and she had almost blacked out.

She knew that the tent was on fire, because she could feel the heat stinging all over her. It felt as if she herself would burst into flame any second. The crowd seemed to be moving in one specific direction. That must be the way out. Estella reached out blindly and grabbed someone's shoulder. She clung to the shoulder and followed it through the throng. All of her concentration was directed at this one shoulder that she hoped would lead her to the open air.

The Gaffer was becoming dizzy from the smoke. His heart pounded, and he couldn't seem to get enough air. He hobbled over to a corner of the tent, and grabbed a corral post for support. At that moment, he felt his knees give way, and he sat down hard on the ground. It felt better to be on the ground. The air was clearer underneath the smoke. He decided that he would sit and rest there, just for a minute, just until his heart stopped beating so wildly.

Outside the tent, Merry knew what he could do. He ran as fast as his long legs would carry him to the blacksmith who had set up a small workshop. Just as he had hoped, there were some sharp blades on the display table. Merry snatched up the nearest strong knife. There was no time to pay, and in any event, the blacksmith was probably down by the tent. He would have to remember that tomorrow, though.

Blade in hand, he charged back to the tent. Arriving right up against the sidewall, he plunged the knife in and slashed. A child came tumbling out, then another. He moved several paces over and slashed again, each time hoping that it would be Estella tumbling out of one of his holes.

Diamond's head was in a whirl. She had been knocked down twice, but each time she had gotten up quickly. In the confusion, she had lost the rest of her friends. She decided to concentrate on finding Pippin. It shouldn't be hard, as he was easily the tallest person in the crowd. She would only have to look up to find him. As she scanned the heads of the crowd, she did not notice the small fires surrounding her as the hay at her feet ignited. A sudden whoosh near her ankles caught her attention, and she looked down, only to see that her skirt had caught fire. With a strangled gasp of horror, she pulled off her bonnet and beat the flames to death with it. The effort left her choking and coughing from the smoke and the superheated air. 

She stumbled forward with the force of a cough, and ran right into Pippin. He had fallen to his knees and had gone strangely rigid. His body was shaking uncontrollably, and his eyes were wide and vague. "Pippin!" Diamond yelled. "Pippin, get up! We have to get out!" For a moment, he focused on her. His mouth seemed to move, as if he was trying to speak, and then his eyes went blank and Diamond knew that he saw nothing. A wave of hot air rolled over them. Crying in terror, Diamond grabbed Pippin's arms and began to drag him along with the mob, hoping that they were going toward the exit from the tent.

Rosie had clamped down on Frodo-lad and Little Rose so hard she was sure she would leave bruises, but she did not mean to let them go. For the briefest of moments, she had caught a glimpse of Elanor and Merry-lad. She had tried to reach them, but the crowd had swirled them away. She would find them, but she had to get these two out first. The trio was bumped and jostled, until at last they found themselves trapped against the side of the tent. Rosie leaned back in despair, and fell through a hole that opened up in the tent under her weight. Babbling thanks to whatever mysterious force had put that hole there, she snatched up the two children and ran out in the clean, fresh air, trying to put as much distance as possible between her children and the burning tent.

Inside, Elanor fought to keep hold of the struggling baby and to keep her feet on the ground. The press of bodies would sometimes lift her into the air, and then she was helpless, going where the crowd took her, until she could wiggle her way back down again. She had no idea where she was now, no way of knowing how to get out. A scrap of burning rope fell right at her feet and hissed. Elanor screeched and danced out of its way. Merry-lad began to beat her with his little fists. A hand came down on her shoulder, and she stopped screeching in surprise. A big boy squatted down next to her. "Go straight ahead to your left," he said. "The tent isn't fastened down, and you can crawl under it." And then he was gone, lost in the confusion. Elanor carefully threaded her way through the trampling legs, hoping she was going in the right direction.

Sam threw another bucket of water. It hissed and sizzled away. Another one was thrust into his hands, and he threw that. He must concentrate on the next bucket, always the next bucket. There was no room for panic and worry for his family as long as there was another bucket. A rumbling attracted his attention. He turned around and saw Fredegar Bolger driving up in his farm wagon, laden with buckets and barrels of water. "There's more on the way," Fredegar told him. "I took the liberty of sending some of the older lads off with any cart that could be spared. No time to ask, but we'll sort things out after."

"Good job!" Sam replied. "This is more important than a few carts. Take that water round to the other end."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosie spotted Estella Brandybuck weaving through the chaos of the fairgrounds. Lifting Little Rose onto her hip, Rosie raced over to her friend. "Estella!" she called. "It's me, Rosie!"

"Rosie!" Estella gasped. "Help me, I can't see anything!" 

Rosie handed Little Rose to Estella. "Here," she said. "Hold Little Rose, and let me take a look at you." Holding Little Rose steadied Estella somewhat, and Rosie was finally able to examine her. At first glance, Estella looked terrible. A shard of glass had scraped across her hairline and was embedded in her scalp. Her face was covered with blood, which had matted her eyelashes together. Gingerly, Rosie tugged at the glass shard, but stopped when Estella gasped in pain.

"Easy," Rosie said. "You've got a big piece of glass in your head. It'll have to come out sooner or later."

"Not now," Estella begged. "It hurts too much."

"All right. Let's see about your eyes." Carefully, eyelash by eyelash, Rosie pried Estella's eyes open. Frodo-lad squeaked in shock as he watched. Just as Rosie finished, a series of snaps sounded over their heads.

The main guyropes holding up the tent had finally given way. As burned, bleeding Hobbits continued to stream out, the tent billowed, then collapsed in on itself. A great roar went up from the crowd and mingled with the howls from the Hobbits and animals trapped under the remains of the tent. Sam whistled sharply to his bucket brigade. "Get the big barrels!" he called. "Spread the water as far as you can. We've got to put this out!" With the tent down, the fire was easier to deal with. Teams of Hobbits upended the great barrels of cooking and wash water held in reserve at the banquet tents and flooded the Show Tent. Clouds of steam and soot rose into the air. As soon as an area of the tent stopped burning, it was peeled away and the bodies of the injured and dying were hauled out.

Estella stared at the tent, her newly opened eyes wide with shock. Rosie looked around, trying to recognize the soot-blackened faces all around her. Suddenly, she saw someone familiar. "Sam!" she yelled. "Sam, over here!" Rosie jumped to her feet and pulled Estella up. Sam heard her call and came running.

"Rosie! Rosie! You're safe! Oh, blessed be!" Rosie was filthy, her face was burned red, and her lovely curls had been singed short, but at that moment, she was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. He took her in his arms and held her gently, not wanting to aggravate whatever injuries she might have sustained. A small body attached itself to each of Sam's legs, and he knelt down and hugged Frodo-lad and Little Rose to him. After a moment, he looked around for Elanor and Merry-lad.

Rosie suddenly burst into tears. "I saw them," she said. "In the tent. I saw them, and I tried to reach them, but they vanished into the crowd. I tried to reach them. . . " Her voice trailed off into a low moan. Sam felt his heart plummet through his gut. He looked around the fairgrounds. People were huddling in small groups, some of the rescuers beating out the last of the flames, while others began to sort the living from the dead. Children ran around in panic, or stood still and silent in shock. 

"We don't know," Sam said brokenly. "Maybe they got out. Maybe they're here somewhere. We can still hope." Rosie continued to moan in his arms. 

Fredegar Bolger ran over to their group and swept his little sister into his arms. "'Stella," he said softly. "Oh, you're alive." Estella clung to her brother for a moment, then gave a small gasp of pain and doubled over in his arms. Fredegar eased her down to the ground, where she knelt, wrapping her arms around herself and making small squeaking noises. Her brother fussed, not knowing which to deal with first, Estella's ugly scalp wound or whatever internal injury was hurting her now. "Help!" he roared. "Somebody help her!"

Two older Hobbit women who had been helping to sort the wounded came at his call. They examined Estella quickly, then nodded to each other. Rosie leaned over to her friend, but one of the old women shoved her away. "No," she said. "Don't look at her. Won't do for you to go, too." As the two women hustled a crying Estella away, Rosie had a glimpse of a fresh bloodstain on Estella's skirt. Fredegar watched, helplessly.

"Young Tom Cotton's setting up the banquet tent for the wounded," he said. "There's tables to lay them on, so they won't be on the ground. That's where they'll take her. I should find Merry and tell him." But he continued to sit limply on the ground.

"Rosie! Sam!" They turned around at the call to see Diamond struggling to drag Pippin to them. Sam pulled Rosie to her feet, and they ran to help Diamond. She collapsed next to her husband, coughing as if she would cough up her own lungs. Rosie cried and held her as she coughed up phlegm that was black with soot. Frodo-lad and Little Rose clung to Sam as he knelt down next to Pippin.

As far as Sam could tell, Pippin was alive. He was breathing and seemed physically unhurt, but was frighteningly absent. He lay on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky with faraway eyes that did not see. Sam prodded him, shook him, and shouted in his ear, but there was no response. Pippin himself was clearly somewhere far distant, walking in dreams only he could see. Sam shook himself. "A fine pickle, and no mistake, Sam Gamgee," he said to himself. "You're the Mayor of Hobbiton. Time to buck up and start acting like it."

He called three sturdy lads over and ordered two to take Pippin to the banquet tent and one to escort Diamond after them. He strode back to Fredegar and shook him lightly. "Here, Fredegar," he said. He fished the keys to Bag End out of his pocket. "Please, take Rosie and the children back home. I've got work to do here." Fredegar nodded, took the keys, and went to Rosie. 

"I'll be back," he said. "Just when I've got them settled. I'll come back." Sam nodded at him, and he left, one arm around Rosie, the other holding Little Rose. Frodo-lad tagged after his mother.

Sam heaved a great sigh and went back to the ruins of the Show Tent. He was immediately besieged by frightened Hobbits needing help and direction. Numbly, he began to give orders. All the wounded were to be brought to the banquet tent. Tom Cotton would direct things there. The dead were to be laid out in the mill, where it was dark and cool. Robin Smallburrow and Hob Hayward would be in charge of helping people to identify them. The dead animals would be piled behind the mill. Lost children. . . Sam gulped, then ordered that all lost children be gathered together under the _mallorn_ tree in the Party Field. Perhaps the tree still held enough of the grace of the Elves to soothe the children until they were found.

Merry had run clear of the tent just before it fell. He realized that he was still holding the knife that he had used to slice the sidewall open. Perhaps he should bring it back to the blacksmith. He stared at the knife for a moment, and his hands began to shake. He dropped the knife, which narrowly missed his foot. Someone came behind him and took his elbow gently. "Here now, lad," a calm voice said. "Are you hurt? You're shaking all over."

Merry stared at the ground. "My wife," he said softly. "She was in the tent." He turned around and looked into the face of old Milo Burrows. Milo nodded understandingly.

"Go to the banquet tent," he said. "That's where they're taking the wounded." Merry thanked him and marched to the banquet tent. Inside, he wandered past rows of Hobbits, some waiting for salve for burns, some moaning quietly with more serious injuries, a few eerily silent. He couldn't find Estella anywhere, and was about to leave when he spotted Diamond sitting huddled at the end of a far row. He trotted over to her, intending to ask if she had seen Estella, but was brought up short by what he saw.

His beloved cousin Pippin lay on a table, staring absently into nowhere. Diamond sat next to him, wrapped in a shawl, the grime on her face streaked from her tears. "Oh, Merry," she said softly, and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, you found us. I was so worried. Pippin won't wake up, and Estella --" she stopped, and her breath caught in her throat.

"What about Estella?" Merry felt himself go cold all over.

Diamond pointed to the end of the tent, which had been hastily partitioned off with a curtain. "She's in there with a healer, and I just saw old Widow Rumble the midwife go in," she said. "I think she's pretty badly hurt, but I haven't heard anything in so long."

It was too much for Merry. The horror of the fire and Pippin's strange trance would have been bearable, almost, but the news of Estella finally pushed him over the edge, and he collapsed limp and numb into Diamond's arms.

Sam was running on sheer Gamgee stubbornness, overseeing the triage efforts on the fairgrounds, when he came around to a small scrap of the tent that hadn't burned completely to ashes. He decided that it must have been one of the last places to burn and one of the first to be put out. There seemed to be something moving inside it. Cautiously, Sam pulled back the tent scrap. The Gaffer lay huddled beneath it, gasping for breath.

"Oh, Dad." Sam pulled his father free and cradled him in his arms. 

"Sam. . . you're safe. . . " the Gaffer wheezed. "I got so tired. . . had to sit and rest. . . my heart was pounding so. . . but you're safe. . . my Sam. . . " The Gaffer let out one long, rasping breath and was terribly still. Sam held his father's body and stared down at it for a long moment.

"Dad?"

Sam looked up. Elanor was standing next to him, a whimpering Merry-lad in her arms. Sam wrapped one arm around his children and the other around his father. He felt tears pricking his eyes, but he couldn't cry yet. There was still so much to do. But perhaps he could spare a few minutes to sit with his family. He held them for a while, then called Hob Hayward over to take the Gaffer to the mill.

"You can put him down on your list," he said. "I do know it's him, after all." Hob nodded.

"He'll be the first one," he said. Sam ran a hand over the Gaffer's white hair.

"Goodbye, Dad," he said. "I wish I could stay, but I've got to take my children home."

Hob smiled at him. "You go on, Mr. Gamgee," he said. "We've got things under control here."

Sam nodded. He took Merry-lad in his arms and grasped Elanor's hand, and they headed up the road to Bag End, where Rosie and Frodo-lad and Little Rose were waiting for them.

Late that evening, one last casualty was dropped off at the banquet tent. Miss Melilot Brandybuck had found a half-grown lad wandering in a stand of trees, scorched, wide-eyed and murmuring in shock. She knew him by sight; he wandered through Hobbiton and Bywater doing odd jobs here and there. No one seemed to know if he had any family. Perhaps some of his kin might hear about the fire and come to claim him, Melilot thought, as she led him to the banquet tent. Perhaps some good might come of this fire after all.


	3. The Day After

****

3. The Day After

Sam faced the morning with a heavy heart. No one at Bag End had gotten much sleep. Rosie and Sam had piled all the children into their great bed, and together the family had battled the dreams that plagued them all night long. Now, just as dawn was breaking across the ruins of the Free Fair, Sam sat on the doorstep of Bag End with a scone and a cup of tea, contemplating the day ahead. 

The scone was delicious, but it sat like lead in his stomach as he turned over in his mind the things he must do that day. He must stop by at the mill and see how the identification of the dead was proceeding; he must find a better place for the wounded than the banquet tent; he must rally the Hobbits to the dreadful task of clearing away the remains of the Show Tent, and very likely the rest of the Free Fair. Sam couldn't imagine that anyone would want to continue the entertainment now. And finally, Sam must find out what had happened. From his vantage point at the archery contest, Sam had seen no immediate reason for the Show Tent to catch fire in the first place. Something dreadful had happened, and the Gaffer and who knew how many other Hobbits were dead because of it.

He had sat on the doorstep quite long enough, Sam decided. With a groan, he struggled to his feet, all of his muscles screaming in protest. He stumped back inside and sat down with pen and paper. Not for the first time, he thanked Mr. Bilbo Baggins for teaching him his letters. He needed all the help he could muster now. Carefully, he wrote four copies of a letter to be sent to the Shirriff-houses in each Farthing; all the Shirriffs were to come to Hobbiton. For good measure, he recalled half of the Bounders as well. The borders of the Shire had been fairly peaceful these past nine years, and the self-sufficiency and practicality of the Bounders would be of more use in Hobbiton right now. Finally, he wrote one last letter to Thain Paladin II asking him to send a delegation from Tuckborough and informing him of the strange fate that had befallen his son.

As he was writing, he heard a soft sound at the doorway. He looked up, and there was Rosie, still in her nightgown. "Hello, Sam," she said softly. Sam got up from the table and took her gently in his arms. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm bruised all over, and I feel as if I'd gotten a bad sunburn, but we're both here, and the children are all alive," Rosie said. 

"Are the children asleep?"

"All of them, yes," Rosie smiled a little. "It was a hard night, so I'm going to let them sleep as much as they want today. I'm going to ask my mother to stay with them."

"Your mother?" Sam asked, puzzled. "What are you going to do?"

Rosie was serious again. "I'm going down to the banquet tent. From what you've told me, they need all the help they can get down there, and I do need to find out about Pippin and Estella."

"You're right," Sam sighed. "They're terribly short-handed. But you're only barely walking yourself. Shouldn't you be resting with the children?"

"I couldn't rest," Rosie told him. "Better that I be doing something useful. At the very least, I can change bandages and fetch water."

Sam knew better than to argue with Rosie. Instead, he kissed her gently, and she disappeared back into the house to get dressed and face the day.

Merry sat on a bench in the banquet tent holding Pippin's hand. Diamond Took lay curled on a blanket on the ground at his feet. Fredegar Bolger had found a corner nearby where he could rest. The three had been spelling each other all night, waiting for word of Estella and hoping that Pippin would wake. So far, there had been no change. Many had died during the night, and every time a body had been carried out of the partitioned area where the most serious cases were being treated, one of their party had run to look. Estella had not come out. Merry reasoned that this was good news, in a way. Estella must still be alive, no matter how sick or injured she was.

A hand on his shoulder startled him a little. When he looked up, Rosie Gamgee was standing there, Elanor clinging to her skirts. Without a word, Rosie put her arms around Merry and held him for a while. Merry shook, and his eyes burned, but he carefully did not cry. As long as he held out hope, he would not cry any more tears. Finally, he looked up.

"Thank you," he said to Rosie. "What's Elanor doing here? I'd have thought she'd be at home."

Rosie smiled. "She insisted on coming with me. She didn't want to leave my side this morning."

"I don't want to lose my Mamma," Elanor explained softly.

"She was a very brave lass yesterday," Rosie told Merry. "She carried your little namesake out of the tent all by herself."

"That was well done," Merry said solemnly to Elanor. "A brave little lass like you has earned a day to stay with your Mamma." Elanor smiled and hid her face in Rosie's skirts. 

Rosie ran a hand through Pippin's hair. "You will find Sam or me if there's any change?"

"Of course," Merry said. 

Rosie smiled at him. Then she bent down and took Elanor's hand. "Come on, Elanor," she said. "We're going to go help the healers now." Merry watched them make their way through the rows of the wounded, then turned back to his absent cousin.

At Merry's feet, Diamond stirred. For a moment, she couldn't remember why she was sleeping on the ground instead of her large soft bed in the Great Smials. Then she coughed, and the dry, rasping pain of it brought back a flood of horrible memories. She sat up, still in her sweaty, burned dress of the day before, and saw Merry sitting, holding Pippin's hand. Pippin lay still and silent, just as he had all night long. Diamond hauled herself up to sit on the bench beside Merry.

"It wasn't a dream after all," she said softly. Merry shook his head. "It seemed so far away for a moment," she told him. "I wanted to believe that I had just had a nightmare about the tent burning down and that when I woke, Pippin would be there to hug me and tell me how silly I was for having bad dreams like that. But it really happened."

"How are you feeling?" Merry asked.

"I hurt all over, but I'm not feeling quite so sick any more. I think that sleep did me a world of good. Has Pippin woken up at all?"

Merry shook his head again. "He just lies there staring off into nowhere; or, he did until I closed his eyes so they wouldn't dry out. He breathes still, so he's not dead, but he doesn't hear or see anything of this world. He's gone off into some dream world."

"I know," Diamond said. "I saw it, in the tent. He was kneeling on the ground, just staring. I think he knew me for a moment, and then he was just . . . gone. He didn't say a word. Oh, Merry, what if he never comes back?"

Merry put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think like that, Diamond," he said. "He's got to come back. I came back after I fought the Witch-King. Strider brought me back with _athelas_. Maybe we can find some _athelas_ in the woods somewhere and brew up a batch. Or maybe we can get Sam to cook up some of his special mushroom soup and let him smell that."

Diamond tried to smile through the tears that threatened to fall. "I'll cook it myself if it'll bring him back," she said. Then she turned away to cough, not as violently as the day before, but painful to a throat still tender and burned.

Merry held her while she coughed and cried. "I'm going to get whoever did this to you," he said softly. 

Out at the Fairgrounds, Sam was giving the latest contingent of Shirriffs and Bounders their orders. They were to clear away ruins, but save any small odds and ends that they found so that they might be returned to their proper owners. Dead animals were to be laid out so that anyone who had lost a valuable pony could make a note of it. Sam supposed that there was enough of a treasury in Hobbiton to pay at least a little compensation to the owners of the ponies killed in the fire. The Shirriffs were also to keep an eye out for any clues as to what had caused the fire. Or who . . . the thought had been in the back of Sam's mind all morning. He couldn't prove it to anyone, but he could not let go of the suspicion that the fire had been set.

Rosie and Elanor walked up and down the aisles of the wounded. Rosie carried a pail of water, and Elanor had a cup. Those of the wounded who were conscious had been crying for water, and Rosie and Elanor had been assigned to bring it to them. Usually a friendly, talkative child, Elanor had been silent for a very long time, handing the cup full of water to injured Hobbits and watching them with wide, scared eyes as they drank. Rosie worried about that. Elanor should not have to walk among the injured like this, but she refused to leave her mother's side.

Toward the end of one row, they found another Hobbit sitting in a corner, in a trance similar to Pippin's, only somewhat lighter. The half-grown lad seemed at least dimly aware that there was a world around him, even if he was not entirely in it at all times. He didn't seem to want any water, and Rosie was about to move one, but Elanor tugged at her skirt.

"I know him, Mamma," she said.

Rosie looked down at her daughter, surprised to hear her speak. "Who is he, sweetheart?" she asked.

"He showed me the way to crawl out of the tent when I had Merry-lad."

Rosie stared at the lad. "That was very kind of him," she said at last.

"Will he get better, Mamma?"

Rosie smiled at Elanor. "I think it would help him get better if you thanked him for saving you and Merry-lad."

Elanor put her arms around the stunned youth. "Thank you for showing me how to get out," she said, "and I hope you feel better soon and can go back to your Mamma and Dad." She turned to look at Rosie. "Did I do all right?"

Rosie took her hand. "You did just fine. I'm sure he heard you and it will help him get better much faster. Now, let's keep going. There's lots more people wanting water."

"All right," Elanor said, and they continued their slow journey through the tent.

Fredegar Bolger ducked into the banquet tent and found Merry and Diamond. "Here," he said. "I've brought something to eat while we're waiting." He set a plate filled with bread, cheese and sliced peaches on the bench between Merry and Diamond. They stared at the food for a moment. It felt a little disrespectful to think of something as ordinary as eating while they waited to learn what had become of Estella. Finally, Merry pushed the plate towards Diamond. 

"The peaches might help your throat," he said. Diamond picked up a peach slice and ate it listlessly. The cool fruit did soothe her throat a little, and she ate another slice. Soon Merry and Fredegar had begun to pick at the food as well. They remembered that they had not eaten since the fire, and they were suddenly hungry. They had just finished the plateful when the Widow Rumble emerged from the partition and made her way over to them.

They stiffened as she approached, terrified of her news and wanting it at the same time. Fredegar clutched Merry's hand, and Diamond laid her hand on Merry's shoulder. Widow Rumble stopped and seemed to fumble for words.

"I'm still old-fashioned," she said at last. "What I've got to say oughtn't to be said to men, even her brother and her husband. Will you come with me, Mistress Took?"

Diamond flashed a quick, weak smile at Fredegar and Merry. "It'll be all right," she said. "I'll tell you everything." Then she got up and followed Widow Rumble through the curtain.

"Oh, Pip," Merry said. "I do wish you were here with me right now." He stroked his fingers through Pippin's filthy curls. Pippin had seen him through some of the greatest trials of his life, and his absence now made Merry feel even lonelier. 

Fredegar gazed blankly at Pippin's still form. "Did you ever see anything like it?" he asked Merry. "On your Travels, I mean?"

"I didn't exactly see it," Merry answered. "I think I lay like this for some time after . . . after one of the battles. But this is different. I was wounded in that battle, and Pip, well, he's a little reddened and a lot dirty, but he doesn't seem to be wounded. Strider healed me, but I don't see what we could heal on Pippin."

"I wonder if he can hear us," Fredegar mused. Merry shrugged, and they sat in silence for a while and waited. 

Suddenly, there was a rustle of skirts. Fredegar and Merry jumped up as Diamond hurried back down the aisle to them. Her face was an unreadable mix of emotion. 

"Estella's alive," she said. Merry let out the breath he'd been holding and sagged against Fredegar. Diamond smiled and took their hands. "She had a piece of glass stuck in her head -- they think it's a bit of a preserve bottle that exploded -- and they had a hard time getting it out, and it was infected, and she was so very sick all night. But Widow Rumble says the fever's broken now, and the infection will heal." Diamond stopped and took a deep breath. Fredegar squeezed her hand.

"There's more, isn't there?" he asked. "What else?"

Diamond looked straight into Merry's eyes. "Estella lost the baby," she said softly. "Widow Rumble said it was probably the shock and the infection, and she nearly bled to death."

"Is she all right?" Merry asked.

"Yes. They've stopped the bleeding," Diamond said. "But, Merry . . . Widow Rumble said she'd most likely never have another child."

Merry's knees suddenly felt like jelly, and he sat down on his bench. "She's alive," he said. "Estella's alive. That's all that matters right now. When can I see her?"

"Later," Diamond said. "She's asleep right now. She was awake for a few minutes and asked for you. Widow Rumble will fetch you when she wakes." Merry nodded, then sank his head into his hands and wept.

Sam had stopped off at Bag End for a quick noon dinner. He was deep in thought, trying to plan the investigation and run it at the same time, when he noticed little Frodo-lad playing with blocks in a sitting room. The child piled the blocks high, then smashed the tower, with a cry of "Bam! Pop, pop, pop!" Sam watched for a few minutes, as the germ of an idea formed in his mind. He went to Frodo-lad and squatted next to him.

"What's 'Bam! Pop, pop, pop?'" he asked.

"The tent," Frodo-lad explained. "Inside, it goes Bam! Pop, pop, pop!"

Old Lily Cotton carried Merry-lad in, freshly washed. "It's what he heard in the tent," she said. "My Rosie explained it to me. The fire started when the barrels of cordial for judging exploded, Bam! And then the bottles of pickles and preserves exploded from the heat, pop, pop, pop."

"And people saw this?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yes. Quite a lot of folk saw the preserves go, and I reckon one or two must have seen the cordial barrels."

Sam jumped up and squashed his bread and cheese into a sandwich. "Thank you, Mistress Cotton," he said, "and thank you, Frodo-lad. You've just put an idea into my head!" 

He set off at a run, then slowed as he neared the banquet tent. He was a little uncertain if it was appropriate to go in just then, but the two people he needed most were inside. Fredegar Bolger and Merry Brandybuck were smart and trustworthy, and far more practiced with their letters than Sam. He could think of no better assistants for this important job, but he hated to pull them away from their vigil.

As he stood and tried to screw up his courage to go inside, the tent flap opened, and the Widow Rumble escorted Fredegar and Merry out. She saw Sam and nodded a greeting. "Good day to you, Mr. Mayor," she said. "Can you do something with these young gentlehobbits? They've done nothing at all for the past day but sit and worry, and if they don't have something to do, they'll worry themselves sick, and I can't have that, not with all the hurt ones already."

"Thank you kindly," Sam said. "They're just the ones I was looking for." Widow Rumble nodded and returned to her nursing duties. Sam turned to Fredegar and Merry. "Have you had news?" he asked.

"Estella's alive," Fredegar said. "She lost the baby, and she's still sick, but she'll live. Although they said . . . well, they said she'd never have children." Sam sucked in a breath in shock and put a hand on Merry's shoulder.

"It's all right," Merry said. "Estella's alive, after all. And we'll enjoy your children all the more. I'm perfectly happy to be Uncle Merry to them, and I wouldn't trade it for all the gold in Gondor. Now, what was it you wanted to see us about?"

"Right," Sam said. "I want to find out everything about this fire. It shouldn't have happened, see? But it did. I need you to help me find everyone who was in or near the tent who can possibly talk. Ask them what they saw, and write it down. I have a feeling that if we ask enough people, we might find someone who saw it start."

"I think we'd be honored to do that, Sam," Fredegar said slowly. Merry nodded in agreement.

"Good," Sam said. "Let's meet back here at the banquet tent at sundown. Then we can go in and see Mistress Estella and Mr. Pippin again, and that'd do my heart a world of good."

As dusk spread over Hobbiton, Sam returned to the banquet tent. Merry and Fredegar appeared several minutes later. Merry collected the notes they had written and glanced at them quickly in the fading light. His face told a sad story.

"Right off the top, it looks like we have sixty-seven dead, as of an hour ago," he said. "Not a few of them children. And there's about two hundred hurt bad enough to be in the tent." Fredegar and Sam winced. This was a blow that Hobbiton and the Shire would feel for a long time. 

"On the other hand," Fredegar put in, "we did find out some interesting things about the start of that fire. The cordial barrels exploded, everyone agrees on that, and one or two people saw them go."

"But what made them explode?" Sam asked. "Barrels don't just explode into balls of fire for no reason. Was there a cookfire nearby, or a blacksmith's booth?"

"No," said Merry, his face hardening. "I walked all around the Fairgrounds. The Show Tent was at the very end, and the cookery judging stands were at the far end of the tent. There was nothing beyond them. And that means one of two things. Either someone wandered around back and dropped a pipe on some hay --"

" -- Or the fire was set," Sam finished grimly. The three stood in silence for a moment, trying to comprehend such a crime. "I can't think about that now," Sam said at last. "It's too big for my poor old mind. Let's go inside. I haven't seen Mr. Pippin since they took him away yesterday."

Diamond greeted them wearily. There had been no change in Pippin's condition. Sam gazed down at his comrade lying still and silent. Pippin looked as if he were deeply asleep, only the rise and fall of his chest indicating that he lived. Sam frowned. There was something familiar about this strange trance. He could have sworn that he had seen something like it a long time ago, but he was too tired and careworn to think about it. 

Rosie approached them, carrying Elanor on her hip. Both of them looked exhausted. Sam kissed Rosie and gave Elanor a long hug. Rosie pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's been a long day," she said. "We're all worn out from work and grief. I think it is time to go home. Diamond, will you come and stay in Bag End?"

"But what about Pippin?" Diamond asked.

"He doesn't look like he's going anywhere," Rosie said firmly. "If anything happens, I'm sure someone will come find you. The best thing you can do is sleep, and you'll do that better in a bed." Diamond started to argue, but found herself yawning. She agreed to go to Bag End. Rosie turned to Merry,

"Estella's awake," she said gently. "She asked for you. Go in and see her."

Merry started, then looked at Sam. "Go on," Sam said. "I'll see you in the morning." Merry hurried back to the partition. He stopped at the curtain, took a deep breath to calm his trembling, and went in.

Estella was sitting up, in a pile of pillows and blankets that the folk of Hobbiton had lent to the seriously wounded the day before. Her head was bandaged, and she was terribly pale, except for dark smudges under her eyes. But she was Estella, and she was awake and she knew him. Merry was at her side in three long strides. He knelt down beside her cot and took her in his arms, feeling her shudder against his chest.

"Merry," she said in a small voice, "I lost my baby."

"I know," he said. She leaned against him and wept, and he buried his face in her singed curls and felt his own tears come again. They mourned together as night fell over the Shire.


	4. Memorial Lesson

****

4. Memorial Lesson

Once again, Sam was up at dawn. He ate a quick breakfast in the kitchen, poring over the notes he, Merry and Fredegar had collected the day before. He read them over and over, searching for any alternative to the horrific scenario in his mind. Surely someone had wanted to roast sausages with the family, or had stepped behind the Show Tent to answer nature's call and carelessly laid a pipe down on the hay. But try as he might, he could not make any of the alternatives stand up to careful scrutiny. The Show Tent had been far away from all known sources of fire and upwind as well, that day. No one recalled seeing any private sausage roasts, and it was highly unlikely that a pipe could have been dropped carelessly and left long enough to start such a ferocious blaze. There was no escaping his conclusion. Someone had set the Show Tent on fire.

At that thought, Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands. He sat there for a moment, then left his notes and walked into the sitting room. Rosie was packing raw potatoes and pots of burn salve into a basket to take down to the banquet tent. Sam watched her, the enormity of his new thought taking shape in his mind. If someone had set fire to the Show Tent, knowing how many Hobbits were inside . . .

"Oh, no," he murmured to himself. Rosie turned around.

"What's wrong, Sam?" she asked.

"Nothing," Sam said quickly. "Just a thought I had about the fire. How's Diamond?"

"Still asleep, and that's best right now. You don't escape me that easily, Sam Gamgee. What were you thinking about that's so bad?"

"It's like this." Sam squatted down beside Rosie. "Yesterday, Merry and Fredegar and I went all around town, and we talked to everyone we could find who had seen the fire. Folk were pretty eager to share their tales, and we learned a lot."

"What did you learn?" Rosie asked.

"We learned quite a bit about the beginning of the fire," Sam answered slowly. "And I've been thinking about all that we learned, and one thing keeps coming clear to me. That fire wasn't an accident, Rosie. That fire was set."

Rosie stared at her husband in shock. "Set? Who would do such an awful thing as set the tent on fire? Why would anyone do that?"

Sam stared grimly at the floor. "That's just what I've been asking myself. And I keep thinking that whoever did it killed the Gaffer and scores of others, nearly killed you and the children, hurt hundreds of Hobbits including Pippin and Estella and set all Hobbiton in a terror. A Hobbit did all that, for there's only Hobbits in the Shire these days. A Hobbit like you and me."

"Not like you and me," Rosie said. "You and I didn't set fire to the tent."

"But someone did," Sam said in a strange, hard tone. "And when I find out who it was that did this horrible thing, I'll --"

"No!" Rosie grabbed Sam's hands and stared into his eyes. "Don't promise like that. Don't make a promise you'll have to keep later. Please, be my gentle Sam for just a little while longer."

Sam looked at his wife, and blew out a tense breath. "All right," he said. "I won't promise. But I want so badly . . ."

"I know." Rosie gave Sam's hands a squeeze. "Whoever this murderer is, don't sink to his level. Go and do your job and take care of Hobbiton. We need you, Sam Gamgee."

"Thank you, Rosie," Sam said. He gave her a quick hug, and then went out the door and headed for the mill.

As soon as Sam stepped inside, he was assaulted by the stench of death. Hob Hayward handed him a handkerchief soaked in peppermint oil. Sam tied it around his nose and mouth. It cut the smell a little, and he was able to look around the room. There were so many bodies, and so many small children, all wrapped in old sheets. Each body had a tag with a name attached. Somewhere in that pile was Sam's father, whom he had once thought to be the wisest, strongest, and best Hobbit in the Shire.

"They've all been identified," Hob said softly. "It took a while, but most everyone had a relative or a friend come through. Someone knew each one of them."

"There's so many," Sam breathed.

"Sixty-seven," Hob confirmed. "Including all of Mat Brownlock's family. Mat and Cora, and all six children."

"The whole family?"

"Aye," Hob said. "But at least they've all been named, and Robin wrote the names down neat as a pin, so they can be remembered. And your old Gaffer's first on the list."

Sam straightened. "Thank you, Hob," he said. "You and Robin have done a brave bit of work here. It's time we finished it. These bodies need burying. It breaks my heart to say it, but there's too many to give each a proper grave. We'll have to put them all together in one. Hob, you take all the Shirriffs and any other Hobbit that can handle a spade down to the meadow east of Hobbiton. I want the grave dug by tea-time, so we can bury them with the proper respect."

"I'll do that," Hob said. "And I'll get Robin to go around town and alert people to the time." He paused, as if a new thought had struck him. "Mr. Mayor," he ventured.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you might see your way clear to sayin' a few words at the funeral? I think it'd do folks a world of good to hear you."

"I will," Sam said. "After all, I'll have to bid farewell to the Gaffer then." Hob nodded and went to fetch the gravediggers. Sam stayed for a while, staring at the masses of the dead and wondering again about the Hobbit who had killed them.

When Rosie arrived at the banquet tent, she found it in a state of what appeared to be barely controlled chaos. She weaved her way through the mass of people until she found her brother. "Tom Cotton," she declared. "What is going on here?"

Tom looked up from where he had been securing a small child to a stretcher. "Rosie!" he said. "It's good to see you. We're moving as many of the wounded as we can back to their homes. We can't keep them in the tent forever, and most of them'll do far better back in their own beds. So all that can possibly survive the trip are going home. The others we'll keep here until we can move them. It'll be easier to care for those without so many others around."

Rosie nodded, seeing Tom's logic. "Well then," she said. "Seeing as how you're moving people out, I'll just drop this basket off in back."

Tom peeked inside. "Oh, good, more of that salve. Thank you kindly, Rosie, for we still need so much of it." Rosie started to go to the back of the tent, but Tom caught her arm. "One more thing," he said. "Could we send Mr. Pippin to Bag End? I don't want him going too far, not in his state, and Sam said that Mistress Diamond was there."

"Certainly," Rosie replied. "There's no better place for Pippin to be than by Diamond's side, and no better thing for her than to have him near. What about Estella Brandybuck?"

Tom shook his head. "She'll stay here at least another night. She's still sick from the infection, and what with that and all the blood she lost when . . . well, Widow Rumble won't let her go anywhere yet."

"All right," Rosie agreed. "I'll just drop the basket off in back and say a quick hello to Estella, and then I'll help get Pippin back to Bag End."

Rosie found Estella still somewhat feverish, but awake. Merry was with her. Rosie let them know about Pippin's move, and asked them to come to Bag End as well when Estella was well enough to leave. Merry agreed, and Rosie left to take Pippin home. As she tucked a blanket around Pippin's still form, she noticed Pervinca Took driving Elanor's entranced Hobbit youth away in her pony cart. That was Pervinca Took all over, she thought, taking in strays without a second thought.

When she arrived at Bag End, Diamond greeted her at the door. Together, Rosie and Diamond moved Pippin into one of the many guest rooms and settled him in bed. Diamond settled herself in an armchair, and then immediately jumped up again.

"I can't just sit here, or I'll go mad!" she announced. "Rosie, come help me gather some flowers. If -- when Pippin does wake up, I want the room to be beautiful. Maybe even a few _mallorn_ leaves, if you think it'd be fitting."

"Of course," Rosie said. "I can think of no better use for them than to welcome Pippin back to us." Smiling real smiles for the first time in two days, the two ladies set off for the garden.

That afternoon, at tea-time, Mayor Sam Gamgee prepared to face the hardest task of his office thus far. Sixty-seven shrouded bodies lay in the mass grave at his feet. All of Hobbiton that could possibly move had turned out for the funeral. Sam looked at his feet and wondered what he could say to all the people who had lost friends and family and were looking to him to make sense of it all. His glance rested on one particular body. In a fit of childlike need, he had tied a ribbon to the Gaffer's shroud at the mill. Now he stared at the ribbon and felt the words spring to his mind.

"Brave Hobbits of the Shire," he began. "We have experienced one of the most horrible things I've seen in all my days and in all my travels. Sixty-seven are dead. They didn't die to save the world from evil, and they didn't die in their own time. They died too early, killed just for going about their business at the Fair.

"I see my own dad's body before me, and I can hardly believe that he's dead. He was my dad, and I guess somewhere I always thought he'd live as long as any Elf because of it. He died a death I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, but I don't want to dwell on that. The Gaffer loved life, and it wouldn't be fitting to remember only his death. From now on, when I think of the day my old dad died, I'll remember that he was about to win another prize for his taters, and he was watching show ponies with his four grandchildren that he loved so very much. 

"I think that's how we should remember the folk who died in this fire. We should remember how much we loved them, and that before they died, they were surrounded by their loved ones and living every bit of their lives. They weren't alone and friendless in some foreign land. They were right here with us, loving and being loved. And there are far worse ways to die. The Elves and the wise Men of Gondor say they haven't any idea what comes of mortals after death, and for themselves, well, maybe they don't mind not knowing. But I'm a Hobbit through and through, and I'll just hope that whatever happens, it'll all end with us meeting again somewhere, for no Hobbit should be alone.

"These are their names." Slowly, Sam read each name on the list that Hob had given him. The list stretched on, unbearably long, and it was all Sam could do to keep his voice steady. At last, the final name was read, and Sam faced the assembly again. "Let's do as the Fair Folk do now, and sing them away. 'Our Days Are Short' would do nicely."

The gathered Hobbits straightened, and began to sing, slowly and in plangent harmony.

__

"Our days are short, the night is long,

The soul flies swift away.

A fond farewell, a parting song

May keep our fears at bay.

There is a world beyond the sun,

More brilliant, sweet and fair.

And when the race of life is run,

We'll dwell together there."

When the song was finished, they stood in silence for a moment and then dispersed to gather privately to mourn their dead and tend their injured. Sam waited for a while as the gravediggers began to fill in the mass grave. He turned when he heard the sound of jingling tack behind him.

Paladin Took, Thain of the Shire, dismounted from his sturdy pony. He took in the grave, and then turned to the Mayor.

"I came as soon as I received your letter," he said. "I couldn't imagine what had happened here. I rode past the Fairgrounds when I arrived, and even after that, and after seeing this, well, it's almost too much to think about. You've done astonishingly well, Mr. Mayor."

"Thank you, sir." Sam could feel a blush beginning, but he tried to ignore it. "It'll be hard for us, but with your help, we should get the place cleaned up and try to get things back to normal."

"I'll do what I can to help, certainly," Paladin said.

"Thank you again," Sam replied. "Now, sir, begging your leave, we'll go collect Mr. Merry and head to Bag End. Mr. Pippin's there, and I think young Mistress Diamond would be right grateful to see you now."

"Of course. Lead the way." And Sam and Paladin set off down the hill. 

Diamond sat by Pippin's bed, holding his hand, as she had been doing for the past hour. The change of scenery had not woken him, although he looked more normal now lying in a bed rather than on a crowded table. The door opened, and Rosie entered carrying a tray with tea, fruit, and sandwiches on it.

"I thought we could eat in here," she said, setting the tray down on the night table. Diamond gratefully accepted a cup of tea and a small plate of sliced pears. Swallowing anything hard hurt her throat, so she had eaten nothing but fruit and lukewarm soups for two days. It was a good thing she liked fruit, but all the same, she began to eye the sandwiches and wondered if she could manage one in very small bites. As she was thinking about food, a terrible idea struck her.

"Rosie," she said. "Do you think it's possible that someone could starve to death while they sleep?"

Rosie frowned. "I suppose," she said. "You don't feel hungry while you sleep, but your stomach knows. After all, most people wake up hungry." Both ladies stared at Pippin, wandering in dreams.

"We'll have to wake him, somehow," Diamond said. "I don't want him to sleep until he fades away into nothing." She set down her empty plate and took Pippin's hand again. This time, instead of just holding it, she began to massage it vigorously. Rosie watched for a moment, then went to the other side of the bed and began to do the same to Pippin's other hand. "Pippin," Diamond called softly, "please come back. It's your Diamond, Pippin dear. You've slept so long, it's frightening me. Please wake up soon, Pippin."

They both looked up as the door squeaked open. Sam ushered Paladin and Merry into the room. For a moment, no one spoke. Paladin leaned over the bed and laid one hand on his son's forehead and one on his chest. "Oh, Pippin," he said softly. He straightened up, a sad, puzzled expression on his careworn face, and put an arm around Diamond. "Thank you for taking care of him, Diamond dear," he said. Merry stepped towards Pippin's bed, and Paladin caught his nephew with his other arm. "You are such good children," he told them.

Rosie continued to massage Pippin's hand. Sam sat down on a small footstool by the bed. He hadn't really examined Pippin since the day of the fire. There was something familiar about this strange trance, he decided. He noticed that Pippin's forehead was clammy with cold sweat and that his eyes moved back and forth under his closed eyelids. He appeared to be dreaming terrifying dreams. His pale, peaked face reminded Sam of --

"Frodo!" 

The others paused and stared at Sam. He realized he had spoken the name, and continued to speak, "thinking aloud," as the Gaffer would have put it. "I was just thinking how much Mr. Pippin resembles poor Mr. Frodo, lying here," he said. "Mr. Frodo would have these strange illnesses, you know -- on the anniversaries of the times he was wounded on our travels."

"I remember," Rosie said.

"He would get that faraway look in his eyes," Sam mused, "and it seemed as though his mind wasn't here on those days. It was as though he was back in his memory, living the wounds again, you might say. It lasted the whole day on those anniversaries."

"Maybe Pip is reliving some old memory like that," Merry said thoughtfully. "Something that happened to him in Minas Tirith, maybe, or at that battle on the Fields of Cormallen."

"Something that being in the fire reminded him of," Sam finished. 

"He used to have bad dreams when he was little," Paladin volunteered. "Eglantine or I used to hear him crying in the night, and we'd have to come into his room and wake him out of them." He bent over the bed again and placed his hands on Pippin's shoulders. "Pippin," he said. "Whatever is hurting you, it's just a dream. It's not real."

Pippin's face twitched. It wasn't much, but it was the first response he'd given to anything in two days. Rosie, Sam, Diamond, Merry and Paladin looked at each other, new hope rising in their eyes. 

"Maybe we can bring him back," Diamond said. She immediately took up her old post massaging Pippin's hand. Merry sagged against a wall in relief. 

"They didn't kill him after all," he sighed. Paladin flashed a strange look at Merry.

"Merry," he said. "Can you run over to Pervinca's place and tell her that Pippin reacted? If you can't find her, get one of her orphans to fetch her." Merry nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said. He paused to run a hand through Pippin's hair, and left. Paladin turned to Sam.

"What exactly did Merry mean by that comment?" he asked.

Sam took a deep breath. "Mr. Merry and Mr. Fredegar Bolger and I have been investigating the fire," he said. "It couldn't have been an accident. Someone set that tent on fire and killed the sixty-seven blameless Hobbits we buried today. We're going to have to find the Hobbit that set this fire."

"When you find him," Paladin said seriously, "see that justice is done. Mind that, Mr. Mayor. I do not want vengeance for my son. I want justice."

When Merry reached Pervinca's orphanage, one of the older lasses pointed him towards the garden shed. "Miss Pervinca's in there with the new lad," she said. "He's sick, so Miss Pervinca made him up a bed out there so he'd have some peace and quiet." Merry thanked her and made his way to the shed.

He found Pervinca sitting with the entranced boy, gently washing his face. She jumped up when Merry entered, the question she couldn't bring herself to ask plain on her face.

"Your father's come," Merry told her. "And he got Pippin to twitch his face. It's not much, but --"

"Maybe he can come back after all!" Pervinca cried, wrapping her cousin in a fierce hug. "That's the best news I've heard all day. Sit down, tell me everything."

Merry sat down on a bench with Pervinca and told her the details of the visit with Pippin. When he had finished, he glanced over at the orphan. "Looks like he's in the same way," he said. "If we can get Pippin to wake up, maybe we can bring him back, too."

"I do hope so," Pervinca said. Merry leaned against the wall.

"Do you mind if I smoke a little?" he asked. "I've been so keyed up these past two days, and I think it would help clear my mind." Pervinca nodded. Merry filled his pipe, and Pervinca brought him a chip lit from the lantern. At the flicker of the pipe, the orphan shrieked suddenly, startling Merry and Pervinca. The orphan leaped from his cot, and sat huddled in the corner, shaking all over.

"I didn't mean it!" he cried. "It burned so big! I couldn't stop it! I didn't mean for it to burn so big!"

Merry and Pervinca looked at each other in horror. A strange, hard look came over Merry's face. He pulled a handful of straw from one of the bales in the shed and grabbed a bucket of water. He set both down in front of the orphan and looked him straight in the eye. "You know something about that fire, don't you?" he asked. When the orphan didn't reply immediately, Merry lit one of the straws from the lantern and shoved the burning straw at the orphan.

The orphan shrieked again. "I burned them! I burned all the rabbits and the ponies . . . I didn't mean to hurt them!"

The straw fizzled in Merry's hand. He dropped it in the bucket and lit another. The orphan howled. "He tells me to burn things . . . I don't want to hurt, but he tells me to . . . just a little, just a little burning . . . "

Another straw. Merry could feel cold fury boiling up inside him. "Who told you to burn things?" he snarled.

"He did . . . The Chief . . . burn it, Grig, burn it . . . I don't want to hurt them . . . not the rabbits and the ponies . . . "

Merry's hand was shaking with growing rage as he lit a fourth straw. "Do you know how many Hobbits you killed?"

"It burned so big . . . didn't mean for it to burn so big . . . all gone . . . poof . . . all burned up to nothing . . . the big burning!"

Before he could stop himself, Merry punched the orphan in the jaw. The boy went sprawling backwards, gibbering in pain and terror. Pervinca shrieked and jumped on Merry, pinning him to the ground as Merry yelled "Murderer!" over and over again. Pimpernel Took burst into the shed, looked wildly around, and ran to the orphan. She wrapped her arms around the flailing form, and gradually things calmed down. Merry glared at the orphan in Pimpernel's arms.

"Tell me what you know," he ordered coldly. The orphan stared back at him, eyes wild.

"It was Sharkey," he said. "Sharkey comes to me. Sharkey tells me to burn things. I have to burn them or the dreams come. 'Burn up the Fair,' Sharkey says. I don't want to burn up the Fair, but Sharkey sends the dream monsters after me. I wanted to be brave. I'll burn up Sharkey. Sharkey before me, all dressed in white. Only it wasn't Sharkey. It was the Fair. All the little rabbits and the ponies, burned to bits. It was supposed to be Sharkey."

For an eternal moment, no one moved. Merry felt his stomach turn over in revulsion. He wrenched himself from Pervinca's grasp and barely made it out into the yard before he fell to his knees and threw up.


	5. Comes The Dawn

****

5. Comes The Dawn

Faramir lay on the pyre, drenched in foul-smelling oil. Denethor cackled wildly and waved a torch in the air. Gandalf was saying something, but it seemed vague and far away. "He is burning! My son is burning!" Denethor cried, pointing at Faramir. Faramir stiffened, then suddenly burst into flames. Denethor laughed and threw the torch at Gandalf. He jumped onto the burning pyre, singing and shouting all at once. Gandalf turned toward Pippin, a towering mass of flame, and extended his fiery arms. Pippin yelled and tried to run, but his feet refused to move. The roar of the flames grew louder, and Gandalf began to melt and grow. He was a Balrog, lashing his whip of fire, burning everywhere he touched. Pippin turned toward the door, only to see it turn into a wall of flame as the Balrog's whip touched it. Pippin stepped toward a window --

A cool breeze ruffled Pippin's hair.

__

-- but the bars were on fire. He could see countryside spread out below, and he watched in horror as the house at Crickhollow caught fire. He yelled again, and the Balrog stepped toward him.

"Pippin!"

__

The Balrog cried his name. Pippin tried to dodge, but came up short against the pyre. Faramir's blackened corpse jerked upright from the force of the fire, and his sightless eyes bored into Pippin.

"Pippin, please wake up!"

__

Faramir's arms shot forward and clutched Pippin's shoulders. A scrap of burning tapestry floated down and brushed his face.

One of the_ mallorn_ leaves shifted in the vase and brushed Pippin's face.

__

He gave a strangled gasp and tried to twist free of the hands grasping his shoulders.

He arched his back, then fell back on the pillow.

__

He turned away from the pyre of his new liege lord, unable to watch as the Steward and his son burned.

His eyes blinked, and then opened, the cloudiness gradually clearing as focus returned. Something smelled sweet above him, and he realized that it was a _mallorn _leaf. He wondered why it was in his face.

"Pippin? Can you see me? Oh, Pippin, have you come back to me?"

It was Diamond's voice. Pippin blinked again. A hand brushed the _mallorn_ leaf aside, and there was Diamond, hope and fear chasing each other across her lovely face. He smiled weakly at her and tried to embrace her, but his arms felt as heavy as stone. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except a painful croak.

"Dia . . .mond?"

"Shh. Don't try to talk yet. Do you want some water?" 

Pippin nodded. Diamond slid a hand under his head and raised it a little. Pippin found a mug of cool water at his lips, and he managed a few sips. It seemed to him by far the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, surpassing even the Elf-draught that Gildor had given him so long ago.

Slowly, he became aware of the rest of his body. He was lying in a bed in Bag End. He felt uncomfortably prickly all over, but the prickliness felt strangely distant. Someone was massaging his hand. With a supreme effort, Pippin turned his head and saw Rosie Gamgee. Rosie smiled at him.

"Pippin, lad?" A rich, familiar voice sounded over his head. He turned back toward the voice, and there was his father, smiling broadly and blinking back tears. 

"Dad?" Pippin whispered.

"Oh, Pippin, welcome back to the world, son," Paladin said. "We thought we'd lost you there, but here you are!"

Diamond's eyes were shining as she raised his hand and kissed it. Pippin managed a real smile and twined his fingers in her hair. Diamond burst forth with a choked gasp that was half laughter and half a sob. Pippin chuckled a little and tried to embrace her again. His arms still did not want to move, but Diamond understood his intent and leaned down to embrace him.

Rosie gave his hand a quick squeeze. "I'll go find Merry and Sam," she said and left the room. 

"Why . . .am I in Bag End?" Pippin asked. His voice felt a little stronger, although his throat was unaccountably sore. Diamond's face quickly became serious. She and Paladin shared a worried glance.

"Do you remember the fire?" she asked.

Pippin frowned as shreds of memory connected themselves. He had been at the Fair, with Diamond and Estella. They had been watching the pony show. He remembered thinking that Diamond should have a riding pony of her own, and then . . . oh, yes. There had been a terrible roar, like a hundred fireworks exploding at once, only it had gone on and on and on. He had seen flames over his head and had vaguely heard the screaming begin, and then his world had dissolved into terror and smoke and flame.

"The tent caught fire, at the Fair," he said. Diamond nodded. Pippin looked around the room, and new questions sprang to mind. "Where are the others? The children, are they safe? What happened to Estella and the Gaffer? And what time is it?"

Diamond and Paladin looked at each other. Diamond took both of Pippin's hands in hers and took a deep breath before she began the tale.

Rosie found Sam in the kitchen tying a bandage around Merry's knuckles. Merry was in a high temper, his words spilling all over each other as he spoke to Sam.

". . . and then, I couldn't help it. I was so angry, so furious, it was as if there was this force inside me pushing me. I hit him in the mouth. I shouldn't have done that, I know, but, oh, I couldn't stop myself if I tried. And the funny thing was, a punch like that should have laid him out flat, but it woke him up instead. He started talking, about the most horrible things. Sam, you were right. The fire was set, and he set it. Somehow, he thinks Saruman came to him and told him to burn things, and he set the tent on fire."

Rosie gasped. Sam and Merry looked up. "Who did it?" she asked.

"An orphan lad that Pervinca found in the banquet tent," Merry said. "He says his name's Grig, and he won't give any other name."

"And he set the tent on fire?"

Sam nodded. "That's what Mr. Merry says. It sounds mighty strange to me. I'm not sure what to make of it yet. I thought you were helping with Pippin."

Rosie smiled. "That's what I came to tell you about. Pippin's awake." Sam and Merry sat for a moment in silence, shy hope rising in their eyes.

Merry found his voice first. "Really awake?" he asked. "Talking? Does he know people?"

"Yes. He's really awake. Diamond and the Thain are with him now. Go in and see him."

Merry looked to Sam. Sam nodded. "Go on. Pippin needs you now. I'll handle this Grig lad. Thank you for telling me, Mr. Merry." Merry jumped up and left the kitchen.

Sam sat back in his chair and rubbed at his temples. Rosie pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "What happens now?" she asked.

"I don't know, Rosie," Sam sighed. "I just don't know. I don't even know how to begin thinking about it. Just the thought that one Hobbit could do such a dreadful thing -- well, that was bad enough, but a lad of only sixteen years?" Sam took a long breath and gazed up at the ceiling. "All I want to do is -- well, I can't do it. Mr. Frodo would know what to do, or Mr. Gandalf, or Lord Elrond, or one of those high folk. But they're not here, and I am."

"Sam . . ."

Sam stood up. "I need to go out for a while, Rosie," he said. "I need to go somewhere where I can think this over." He reached out and hugged her. "You are a jewel, Rose Gamgee, and don't you forget it." Then he turned and walked out the door.

Merry's heart was in his throat as he pushed open the door to Pippin's room. Paladin looked up as the door creaked. "Merry?" he said. "Come in, come in."

"Uncle Paladin," Merry said softly. "Is he -- is he really --?"

"Yes, he's awake. Come and see him."

Merry approached the bed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. Pippin looked at him with clear eyes and smiled. "Merry," he said, his voice raspy but present. "So you're here, too. You haven't all been waiting around for a slug-a-bed like myself, have you?"

"Slug-a-bed? Oh, Pippin, you rascal! I was so scared you'd never wake up! I swore to myself a hundred times that I'd never tease you again, no matter how late you slept, if you were only ever able to visit me again."

"Good," Pippin said with a mischievous smile. "I shall hold you to that promise. But right now I am getting tired of lying on my back. I think I should like to sit up and see all of you better."

"Of course, Pippin, if you feel strong enough," Merry said. He, Diamond and Paladin rearranged the pillows on the bed and helped Pippin to sit up.

"That's better," Pippin said, after adjusting to his new position. "Now, what about breakfast?"

"Hungry?" laughed Diamond. "You just woke up!"

"Of course," Pippin replied. "You told me yourself, I haven't had a decent meal in days."

"You are getting better," Diamond said. "I'll go to the kitchen and ask Rosie to get you the biggest, best breakfast any Hobbit ever had."

Rosie had brought the breakfast on a tray when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, ber brother Tom was waiting on the doorstep. "Oh, Tom!" Rosie cried. "Pippin's woken up! He's really awake, and he knew us all, and he was talking and he even wanted breakfast!"

"That's the best news I've had since the fire," Tom said. "I'm sure I can't possibly top that, but I did come to tell you something else good. Widow Rumble says Estella Brandybuck can be moved now. She's still a little sick, and she's awful weak, but Widow Rumble figures she'll heal faster if she's in a real bed. Do you think you might be able to take her?"

Rosie beamed even brighter. "Of course. I've had her room made up since yesterday. I'll run and get Merry and we'll hitch up the pony cart."

"All right then. I've got to head back to the tent and get Mistress Estella ready to go. Give my best to Mr. Pippin!" And he headed off down the hill. Rosie hurried to Pippin's room.

"Merry," she said. "Tom was just here. Estella is well enough to come to Bag End, too. Will you come help me fetch her?"

Merry looked stunned for a moment, then laughed. "All the good things are happening at once, it seems!" he said. "Pippin and Estella, both alive and in Bag End to heal. I'll have my hands full visiting both of you," he told Pippin. Pippin smiled around a mouthful of boiled egg.

"Go get her, Merry," he said. "She needs you now." Merry nodded and followed Rosie out the door.

Some time later, after Estella had been comfortably installed with Merry to dote on her, Rosie walked out toward the great field where the mass funeral had been held. There was a single Hobbit standing staring at the fresh grave. It was Sam. Rosie walked over and stood beside him. 

"I thought I'd find you here," she said.

"More than anything in the world, I realized I wanted to talk to the Gaffer," Sam told her sadly. "I asked him what he thought I should do, seeing as how this lad might have been the one that killed him. I don't even know that I was expecting an answer, but if there was one to be had, I couldn't hear it."

Rosie could think of no comforting words for Sam. The Gaffer's death had left a hole in their hearts whose size they were just beginning to appreciate. She put an arm around his shoulder, and he held her hand. Neither spoke for a while. Finally, Rosie removed her arm.

"Estella's been moved into the guest room I set up for her," Rosie said. "Merry was sitting with her when I left. And Pippin asked for you."

"I should go see him, then." Sam smiled. "I'll bet that's what the Gaffer would say. 'See that you don't neglect the living for the dead, Sam Gamgee. I'm not going nowhere no more, but Mr. Pippin'll be better in a flash.'" Rosie giggled, and the two of them turned and walked back to Bag End.

Pippin was considerably cheered by Sam's arrival. He declared that the sight of his friend made him feel strong enough to sit in an armchair. Diamond pulled the chair from the corner closer to the bed, and Paladin and Sam each took one of Pippin's elbows and helped him out of the bed. Pippin's legs were wobbly from so many days unconscious, but he managed to stumble the few feet to the chair under his own power. He had grown rather sober over the course of the day as he heard the tale of the fire told by everyone in Bag End. He could also see the worry in Sam's eyes, and knew that there was more that he hadn't been told yet. Just as he was getting ready to force the end of the story from Sam, two small faces peered around the door.

"See, Little Rose? I told you Uncle Pippin was all right," Elanor told her little sister. Pippin grinned and called the girls in. They raced over to him, and Little Rose clung adoringly to his knee while Elanor climbed into his lap. Sam took advantage of the confusion to beckon Paladin into the hall.

"Mr. Paladin, sir," Sam began shyly, "I'm plumb stuck, sir, and I'd value your advice on a problem, if you'd be willing to give it."

"What is the problem?" Paladin asked.

"Well, sir, Mr. Merry came to me this morning with the strangest tale. He said he'd been to see an orphan lad last night, and that the lad had confessed to setting the Show Tent on fire. Mr. Merry wouldn't lie, sir, but he was mighty angry, and he'd given the lad a right to the jaw. I don't know what to do about that, sir. If the lad did set fire to the tent, he killed and wounded scores of Hobbits, and he'll have to be punished. But I don't know how to go about doing that, sir. Would you have any advice on a matter like that?"

Paladin thought for a while. When he did speak, it was in grave, slow tones. "I think," he said, "that the first thing is to determine whether or not this lad is guilty. You should question him, but do it in the open, before all Hobbiton. This matter concerns everyone. Once you have heard all the facts of the matter, then you may judge, and the judging will be easier."

"Thank you kindly, sir," Sam said. "I think I'll do just that. If nothing else, it'll give me more time in which to decide things." Paladin nodded to Sam and returned to Pippin's room. Sam went across the hall to check on Merry and Estella.

Estella still looked peaked and ill, but some color was returning to her cheeks. She was sitting limply, her arms wrapped around herself, cradled in Merry's arms. She mustered a little smile when Sam came in, prompting a larger one from Merry. "Hello, Sam," she murmured. "Thank you for letting me stay here a while. I'm sure I'll get strong again soon."

"You take all the time that you need, Mistress Estella," Sam said. "We're just happy that you're still with us."

"I heard you and Uncle Paladin out in the hall," Merry said. "What were you talking about?"

"As a matter of fact," Sam replied, "we were discussing what's to be done with that lad you visited last night." Sam paused. He wasn't sure he liked the hardening set of Merry's jaw, but he plunged forward. "I'm going to haul him out in front of all Hobbiton tomorrow and question him. And then, after I've found out the truth of the matter, I'll decide what to do about him."

"Good," Merry said. "I want to be there when you do. I want all Hobbiton to see him, to know just what he is. I want them to see that murderer, and I want him to see them and feel their terror and hurt. I want him to feel it for the rest of his life. I want him to burn with it."

"Merry!" Estella gasped. She reached up one wavering hand to his forehead. "What's happened to you? You've gotten so grim all of a sudden."

"It's no more than he deserves, after what he did to you and to Pippin and to the Gaffer."

"No." Estella's voice was a little stronger. "Don't go down that road, Merry. Pippin's all right, and I'm going to live, but we need someone to come back to. You sound just like a stranger, not my sweet Merry Brandybuck. Please don't turn into such a monster. I've already lost a baby. I don't want to lose you, too."

Merry sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "All my fear is turning to anger, it seems. I wish it could turn to courage again."

"It will," Sam said. "You stay with Mistress Estella, Mr. Merry. Stay here and stay calm and you'll find your courage."

"I hope so," Merry said. "Will you tell Pippin I'll stop in to see him later?" Sam nodded and left the room.

When he entered Pippin's room, he found Little Rose on her Uncle Pippin's lap and Elanor sitting by Auntie Diamond's feet as Paladin finished telling a story. The girls laughed and clapped their hands. When he saw Sam, Pippin sat a little straighter and lifted Little Rose off his lap. "Go sit on Auntie Diamond for a bit," he said. "I want to ask something of your Dad."

"What's that, Mr. Pippin?" Sam asked.

Pippin glanced at Paladin before he spoke. "My father told me that you've found the lad that started the fire."

"Well," Sam cautioned, "Merry thinks he might have. I won't say for sure until tomorrow."

"At the Questioning, yes," Pippin said. "I should like -- if it wouldn't be too much trouble, that is -- I should like to see him before then."

"Pippin, why?" Diamond asked.

"I don't rightly know," Pippin admitted. "I suppose I'm as curious as anyone about who would do such a thing, but it's mostly just a feeling I've got. It's something I need to do."

"Are you sure you can stand it? You only just woke up this morning."

"It needn't be very long. And I can see Pervinca and Pimpernel, too, while I'm there."

Sam nodded. "I suppose we can put you in my pony cart," he said. "But I'd like Mr. Paladin to come with us, and we'll keep an eye on you to make sure you're strong enough. If we think you're not, you're to come straight back with us."

"All right," Pippin said. He waved off Paladin's hand, grasped the arms of the chair and stood slowly. Sam waited a moment to make sure Pippin wasn't about to fall down on the spot, then went out back to hitch up the pony.

A short while later, Pervinca Took ushered her brother into the shed where Grig was sitting despondently on his cot. Pippin sat down on a bale of hay and looked the boy up and down. For someone who had managed to kill sixty-seven Hobbits, the boy looked singularly unimpressive. Pippin thought for a moment, then leaned toward the boy.

"I'm Pippin Took," he began. "What's your name?"

"Grig."

"Just Grig?"

"Grigory. Grigory Brockhouse."

"And how old are you, Grigory Brockhouse?"

"I'm --" Grig paused to count on his fingers. "I'm sixteen."

"I see," Pippin said with a smile. "Grig, where are your parents?"

"Haven't got parents."

"Oh. What happened to them?"

Grig put his head in his hands and started to shake. At first, Pippin thought he was crying, but when he reached out a hand toward Grig, the boy's head shot up, and he was laughing in short, sharp barks. "All gone!" he cried. "My mam burned up, whoosh! Just like that. Sharkey came and burned our house, and my mam inside it, and she was covered in fire, and oh, how she danced! Dance, dance, dance, and all the time her shining like the sun. Dance, Mamma, dance! And then she fell down, boom, and she didn't get up no more, but Sharkey did make her dance, oh yes he did!"

Pippin gulped. "And your father?" he asked. "What happened to him?"

Grig laughed again, only this time his laughter was mixed with moans and strange animal cries. "Sharkey got him, too. He sits up in Bag End and sends the Ruffians out and they come and bother us no end. And then the shiny Travelers come, with their bright armor shiny in the sunlight shiny as the stars in the sun. There was a big fight, oh yes there was, the biggest fight ever seen and at the end the Travelers stood shining in victory and my da lay dead at their feet. And I've got a secret."

"What secret? Will you tell me?"

Grig grinned his lunatic grin. "They all think Sharkey burned up then, but no, sir, he stayed around. But I got him, I got him good, I burned him all to little bits, just like he burned my mam, dancing and flickery in the night." Grig dissolved into hysterical laughter. Pippin sat back and stared at the mad Hobbit, revulsion and pity rising in his throat.


	6. Justice

****

6. Justice

The Questioning was set to begin at noon beneath the great _mallorn_ tree in the Party Field. Sam had ordered a long table brought out and set by the tree trunk. He still did not trust himself with the sole responsibility for determining Grig's fate. "Wouldn't be right, just old Sam Gamgee up there," he told Rose. "I'd feel a sight better knowing that better eyes than mine were upon him." After some thought, he had asked Paladin Took and old Will Whitfoot, the former Mayor, to sit with him in judgement. They had readily agreed, as it did not seem right that one Hobbit should decide the question alone.

The Hobbits began gathering as early as eleven. Nearly everyone in town had been affected by the fire in some way; if they themselves had not been hurt, they knew someone who had been hurt or killed. They had come partly out of a desire to see justice done, but also to lay eyes upon the one who had caused their hurt and to try to understand the outrage inflicted upon them.

Shortly before noon, Sam, Will Whitfoot and Paladin Took seated themselves at the long table. Sam gazed out over the throng of Hobbits. Merry and Fredegar Bolger sat in the front row with Elanor, as Sam had asked. Pippin sat between Diamond and Pimpernel. Rose was at home with Estella, who was not yet strong enough to attend the Questioning. Sam nervously watched the sun climb higher in the sky and hoped with all his might that he would be able to do the job he had to do.

The sun was at its peak. Sam tapped a small bell that had been placed on the table. In the silence that followed, he cleared his throat. "Bring him forward," he said.

With a hushed murmur, the crowd parted and made way for Pervinca Took and her young charge. Pervinca led Grig to the small open space before the table. He looked around, bewildered at the crowd staring at him and talking. Pervinca laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and whispered some encouraging words in his ear before retiring to sit next to Pimpernel.

Sam tapped his bell again. "This Questioning is to discover the true cause of the fire that struck the Free Fair," he said. "Grigory Brockhouse, you have been accused of setting this fire. What do you say to this charge?"

Grig looked wildly around, casting about for any support. He wriggled and stood on one foot and laced his fingers together. Finally, he mumbled something inaudible down his shirtfront.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that," Sam said. "Can you speak a little louder?"

Grig looked up. "I didn't mean to set the tent on fire," he said. "Didn't want to hurt no one." The three judges sat back and blinked in surprise. The crowd of Hobbits rumbled. They had expected malicious gloating, or an indignant protestation of innocence, not the frightened, confused lad who stood before them. Sam tapped the bell for silence. After a short, hushed conference with Paladin and Will, he straightened and leveled his gaze on Grig.

"I think we'll count that as not denyin' the charge," he announced. "Grig, you go and sit with Pervinca for a bit. I'll call you back when you're needed again." Grig scurried over to the safety of Pervinca's side. Sam addressed the assembled Hobbits.

"The first thing to prove is how we came by this charge," he said. "We'll ask Master Meriadoc Brandybuck to explain that."

Merry rose to stand before the table. "I went to Pervinca Took's orphanage," he began, "to give her word of her brother, who had been hurt in the fire. While I was there, Pervinca introduced me to her newest foundling."

"And who was that foundling?" Will Whitfoot asked.

"It was that lad over there, Grigory Brockhouse," Merry said, pointing. "He was in a sort of a trance at the time. Pervinca thought he'd been hurt in the fire. I sat down to have a smoke, and when I lit my pipe, he started shouting about how he hadn't meant to set the fire." At this, an excited murmur rose from the crowd. Merry waited for it to die down before continuing. "It was the first thing I'd heard about the very beginnings of the fire. I knew it had started over near the cordial barrels, but no one had seen it start. I lit a piece of straw and held it before his face and asked him about the fire."

"Why did you light the straw in his face?" Paladin asked. "Surely this isn't the polite way to ask someone a question."

"As I said, sir, he was in a trance," Merry explained. "He hadn't spoken at all before I lit my pipe. It was the sight of a flame that made him start talking again. I lit four or five straws to keep him talking, just enough to hear him say that he set fire to the Show Tent. He claimed Sharkey had ordered him to do it."

Another murmur swept through the crowd. Sam tapped his bell. "What happened then?" he asked slowly.

Merry sighed, but looked straight at Sam. "I hit him," he said. "I'm not proud of it, but I was so furious at the time, I couldn't stop myself. So I hit him. He went down yelling. I think Pimpernel came in then, but I don't' remember much more until I went outside."

"Thank you," Sam said. Merry nodded and sat down. Sam plunged forward. "Miss Pervinca Took," he said. "What do you have to say to what Mr. Merry just told us?"

Pervinca stood and folded her hands primly. "Everything he said is true, Mr. Mayor," she said calmly. "I watched him use those straws, and I heard what the lad had to say. And Merry did hit Grig afterward. I jumped on him pretty quick and pinned his arms so he wouldn't hit Grig anymore. Pimpernel ran in about then and calmed Grig down. Then Merry asked again about the fire and. . . and Grig confessed to setting it."

"I have a question," Will Whitfoot said. "Did it look as though Merry was trying to get Grig to confess to a fire he didn't set?"

"No, sir," Pervinca said softly. "I think Merry was just as surprised as I was by that. He kept asking Grig what he knew about the fire and if he knew who started it. I don't think either of us thought that Grig could have done it until he confessed."

The judges seemed satisfied with the answer, so Sam thanked Pervinca. Pervinca returned to her seat and buried her face in her hands. Pimpernel rubbed her back consolingly. Sam thought through the list of people he had wanted to question and remembered the next name on the list. "Mr. Fredegar Bolger, please stand," he said.

Fredegar handed Elanor off to Merry and rose to take his place before the table. "Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor," he said.

"I don't think there's anyone who doesn't have a bit of an idea, but would you tell us the full tale of the damage done by the fire?" Sam asked. 

Fredegar pulled several crumpled sheets of paper from his jacket pocket. "I took the liberty of writing some of the figures down," he explained. "I thought they would be important later, and I didn't want to forget them. With your permission, I'll read those figures back for you."

"Go ahead," Paladin said.

Fredegar cleared his throat and nervously squinted at his notes. "Well, first off, begging your pardon, there's the sixty-seven Hobbits dead, friends or kin to all of us here, I'd wager. Then there's two hundred hurt, in body and in spirit. Some hurt permanently, I might add." He licked his lips and pulled out a second sheet of notes. "As to animals and property, I counted fifteen ponies killed, easily worth a good handful of silver pennies each, along with twenty sheep, eighteen goats, several cages full of rabbits and poultry, a selection of vegetables and cooked goods, fourteen barrels of beer and six barrels of cordial. And the tent, which was good oiled canvas that should have lasted many more years."

There was silence for a moment as the judges and spectators alike digested the slew of facts and figures. Most of those who had lost livestock in the fire had begun making discreet inquiries about compensation for their losses, but few had comprehended the total damage done until now. Sam thought of the Gaffer and all the wisdom and love that was gone forever. He glanced at Grig, and for a moment, he understood Merry's urge to beat the boy senseless. He reminded himself sternly that he must see the Questioning through to the end, with whatever wisdom and patience he had learned from his Gaffer.

"Thank you, Mr. Fredegar," Sam said slowly. "I'll collect those notes, if you please. They should be part of the official record of the fire." Fredegar rolled the notes, tied them with a cord and handed them to Sam. He gave a short half-bow and returned to his seat. Sam turned back to Grig.

"Grigory Brockhouse, you've now heard the charge in full. Have you anything else you wish to say to this charge? If you can explain yourself, now's the time."

"Go on," Pimpernel said, nudging Grig to stand before the judges. Grig gazed at them, horror and astonishment plain on his face.

"Didn't mean to do all that," he said at last, in a small voice. "I never wanted to hurt no ponies or rabbits or Hobbits. A little fire to make Sharkey go away. There was Sharkey, all the time, saying burn, burn, burn, in his big flapping robes of white. I'll burn, says I, I'll burn Sharkey to the ground and he won't say burn no more. And I burned. I burned Sharkey all up, but it was the tent instead, and all those ponies and rabbits and Hobbits inside. Been a bad Hobbit, I have, but I never meant harm by it, no I did not." And with that, he fled back to his bench and sat on the ground clutching at Pervinca's skirts.

Sam looked helplessly at Will and Paladin. "It's not much of an answer," he said. "Isn't there some way we could give him a better chance at it?"

Will thought for a moment, then nodded. He rose and addressed the crowd of spectators. "Is there anyone here who wishes to speak for the accused?" he asked. The assembled Hobbits blinked in surprise at the question. No one spoke for a moment. Then Pippin rose shakily to his feet.

"I'll speak for him," he said. Merry stared at him open-mouthed. Paladin nodded in approval. The crowd began to murmur in response, but Pippin spoke up again and they fell quiet. "He's just one lad, after all, and I won't see him go down without a fight."

"Are you well enough to do this?" Paladin asked his son, his voice carefully neutral.

Pippin nodded, though his face was noticeably pale, and he was gripping Diamond's shoulder for support. "I'll speak from here, if you don't mind," he said. "My knees are still a little shaky, and I don't think I could stand before you to speak."

"Speak from where you are, then," Sam said. "What have you got to tell us?"

Pippin stood as sturdily as he could and faced the judges. In a surprisingly clear voice, he began.

"Nine years ago," he said, "I returned home to a devastated land. The one thing I feared most in all the world had come to pass. The forces of evil, led by the wizard Saruman, had overrun the Shire. There was next to no food available, rules were everywhere, and friends and neighbors that I loved had been imprisoned just for speaking their minds. This land suffered a wound as grievous as any hurt sustained by a soldier on a battlefield. The next year, we set about to heal that wound, and we were able to do so. After the great harvest of 1420, we allowed ourselves to think that all would be as it was before. That thinking was false. Like any wound, Sharkey's occupation has left scars."

Pippin paused for a moment to allow that to sink in. The crowd seemed to be of two minds thus far. One faction had been slightly put off by what seemed to be Pippin's pointless dredging up of a past horror best forgotten. Others were intrigued by the opening and wished to know how their recent occupation could be tied to their present woe. Pippin flashed Pervinca a quick, distracted smile before continuing.

"I'm going to tell you the story of one of those scars, a scar that's still with us today, right here, as I speak to you. Nine years ago, there was a family. There was a Dad, and a Mamma, and a little lad, only seven years old. They'd never done anyone wrong in their lives. They just had the bad luck to own a little house that stood right where the Chief's forces wanted a new Shirriff-house built. They got rid of the house by burning it to the ground. The little lad escaped the fire, only to watch his beloved Mamma burn to death right before his eyes."

A gasp of horror and sympathy swept over the crowd. Several mothers, some with fresh burn scars of their own, hugged their children tightly. Elanor wiggled a little closer to Merry and watched Sam with enormous, frightened eyes. Pippin produced a small roll of paper from his coat pocket.

"The little lad and his Dad spent the winter hiding in sheds or in the forest," he went on. "They very nearly starved to death, but the Dad took good care of the lad, and they survived the winter. Spring and summer they spent on the run from Sharkey's forces, still living hand to mouth. Folk might have given them food, but there was none to give. You all know what happened in the fall. Sharkey's occupation was ended at the Battle of Bywater. Nineteen Hobbits were killed; you've all seen the roster." He unrolled the piece of paper, where the names of the participants in the Battle were written down. "One of those nineteen killed was Bilco Brockhouse. He was the Dad who had cared for the little lad who watched his Mamma burn. And the little lad is Grigory Brockhouse."

Here Pippin paused again, not for effect, but stunned by the force of the mass gaze suddenly turned on Grig. For an instant, nothing moved as the good folk of Hobbiton connected the hurt, frightened orphan with the instrument of their current disaster. They seemed to be weighing one against the other, and the outcome was far from clear. Pippin hardly dared breathe as he searched for the right words that would strengthen that tenuous bond and lessen the town's murderous rage against Grig.

"Grigory Brockhouse, that little lad, wandered off into the fields and hedgerows, all alone," he said. "He needed love and a home, but none found him. All he had for nine years was his grief and loneliness. In time, grief and loneliness led to madness. You've seen him. You heard what he had to say for himself. That lad lives all his life now in a world where nothing is what it seems. Wizards long dead haunt his dreams and whisper in his ears until he no longer knows where the dreams end and the world begins."

Pippin took a deep breath as he called up memories of his own that still stung. "I learned much traveling in the world," he said. "I learned that Hobbits can rise to greatness, and that even great Men can be struck down with grief. Even Lord Denethor, the last Ruling Steward of Gondor, fell into madness in his final despair. He would have killed his own son if Gandalf hadn't been there. I always regretted Denethor's death. I don't think it was a path he would have chosen willingly, with full mind, and he never had the chance to see that or try to make things right. But Grig had that chance. The same day that he did great evil, he also did good. Elanor Gamgee, come here, please."

Merry gave him a sharp questioning look, but Sam nodded to his daughter. Elanor hopped off her bench and trotted over to him. 

"Elanor," Pippin asked, "how did you get out of the tent?"

"Crawled," Elanor answered.

"Just you?"

"Me an' Merry-lad."

"And how did you know where to crawl?"

"Showed me."

"Who showed you, love?"

Elanor twisted around. She looked solemnly at Grig and drew circles in the dust with her toe. Finally she pointed a finger at Grig. "Him."

Pippin smiled at her. "Thank you, love. You've been very helpful." Elanor smiled at him. Pippin put an arm around her and addressed the judges' table. "Grig couldn't stop what he did," he said. "He was too crazy for that. But he knew it was wrong, and he tried to make up for it. It doesn't balance at all -- sixty-seven killed and two Hobbit children saved -- but perhaps it might go a little way towards mercy." Suddenly, Pippin's knees felt like jelly, and he wobbled. Elanor gasped, and Diamond reached up to support him. "I don't think I can say any more," Pippin said softly, as he sat down next to Diamond.

"You've said plenty, Pippin. Thank you," Sam said evenly. He tapped his bell. "I think that's it. If no one else wants to speak, we three will go and think about the question. We'll come back when we've got an answer, and in the meantime, we are not to be disturbed." With that, Paladin, Will and Sam rose from their seats and marched off to the Post Office, which had been closed off that morning. Silence hung in the air for a few minutes after they left. No one seemed to know quite what to do. Finally, the natural sociability of Hobbits took over, and people began to talk to each other.

Merry elbowed his way through the crowd to Pippin. He stared at his cousin for a moment, confusion and disbelief plain on his face. "Why did you do that?" he blurted. "How could you speak for him that way? You know what he did. He killed the Gaffer, he hurt Estella, he nearly killed you! How can you speak for him after all that?"

Pippin suddenly felt very tired. He didn't want to talk any more, but he hated to have Merry angry with him. He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again. He shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "It just didn't seem right for that poor crazy lad to have all those questions and no one to help him. It made me feel helpless for him, if you know what I mean. You used to defend me when I got into trouble as a lad."

"You never killed anyone, Pip," Merry said. "I'm going to Bag End to wait with Estella. Send someone to fetch me when they come back." He turned on his heel and walked away. Pippin put his head on Diamond's shoulder.

"Was it the right thing to do?" he asked. "It felt like something I ought to do, but I usually act first and think later. Was this right?"

"Yes," Diamond said. "It was right, and I'm so proud of you for it."

They waited there under the _mallorn_ tree for several hours. All of Hobbiton sat together, as though time had ceased to flow. Slowly, the sun moved across the sky. Bright midday gave way to golden afternoon, and afternoon was fading into dusk when the postmaster puffed up the hill, saying that the judges had decided their questions and would be returning shortly. Pippin sent Elanor running back to Bag End, and she returned in short order with Merry and Rosie supporting Estella, wrapped in a shawl, between them.

When all were seated, Sam tapped his bell once more. "Grigory Brockhouse," he said calmly, "please come and stand before us." Pervinca nudged Grig, and he rose to stand before his judges, trembling just a little.

"We've given this matter quite a bit of thought," Sam said. "We haven't had such a crime in the Shire for years and years, and we weren't quite sure what to do with you. But I thought back on the best, bravest and wisest Hobbit I ever knew. I asked myself what Mr. Frodo Baggins would say to you now. He would most likely quote Mr. Gandalf the wizard about none being able to see the future, only he'd say it prettier. But I'll say this. Mr. Frodo had pity for a worse wretch than you, and his pity saved the world. And it's the least I can do to live up to that.

"Grigory Brockhouse, you set fire to a tent full of Hobbits who had done nothing more than to come and enjoy a day at the Free Fair. You killed sixty-seven and hurt hundreds more, and there's no getting around that. If you were in a great city like Minas Tirith, you'd most likely be killed for that. But now that I see you and your addled mind and wild ways, well, I haven't the heart to kill you. There's already enough death on your account. But you won't go free, neither. You're dangerous, and you can't run loose around here any more. I charge that Miss Pervinca Took, if she'll have you, is to keep you locked up in her orphanage until you come to your senses, if you ever do. And if you come to your senses, well, then we may see about punishing you further. Miss Took, will you take charge of this lad?"

Pervinca stood. "I will," she said clearly.

"All right, then. Take him away now. He's not to set foot outside the orphanage until he's in his right mind again. If he gives you trouble, you send word to Mr. Robin Smallburrow, and the Shirriffs will come and help you."

"Thank you," Pervinca said. She motioned to Pimpernel, and the two ladies led Grig away. The last the town saw of Grig was the look of hopeful bewilderment on his face.

"Well," said Sam, "I think that's that. It's time to go back to our lives and set things right, as is proper for Hobbits." The judges rose and left the clearing. The crowd began to discuss the trial immediately, and they did not stop for many weeks.

Supper that evening in Bag End was a fluttery, nervous affair. Sam and Paladin refused to talk about what had gone on between the judges in the Post Office, saying that some things should not be spoken of before outsiders. Diamond and Pippin told Rosie all about the afternoon's events. Rosie listened to them wide-eyed and praised both Pippin and Elanor for their bravery in speaking before the whole town.

Merry and Estella were not at the table. They had wanted to sit in the garden and watch the stars and talk together. Rosie had put some supper in a basket for them and warned Merry not to exhaust Estella. Pippin wanted to find Merry and try to make things right with his cousin, but Rosie stopped him.

"No, Pippin," she said. "It's not time. You'll know when it's time. Merry'll let you know." Pippin had returned to the table obediently, if somewhat disappointed. He was unusually quiet, and Paladin wondered privately if the effort of defending Grig had overtaxed his recovering son.

Eventually, the children began to yawn, and Rosie excused herself to put them to bed. Paladin left the table soon after, saying that, at his age, sleep was the best cure for a troublesome day. Diamond, Pippin and Sam remained. Pippin wrapped an arm around Diamond and took Sam's hand. "I want to make sure you two are still here, at least," he explained. They sat in silence for a while, each trying to sort out the mess of thoughts and emotions from the past week. 

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" Merry asked suddenly from the doorway. Pippin, Diamond and Sam looked up. Merry and Estella had come in from the garden. The picnic basket hung over one of Merry's arms, and the other was around Estella. Estella looked much better than she had the previous day. Slowly, the color and life were returning to her face, and they did not doubt that she would heal.

Merry, on the other hand, was a mess. The strain and worry of the fire and its aftermath still echoed in his eyes. Pippin motioned to a stool at the table, and Merry sat on it heavily. Estella set the picnic basket down in a corner and came to sit next to Merry. He took her hand and held it like a precious amulet. "Pip," he said, "I want you to know . . . you spoke well today."

Pippin sat back, surprised. "I didn't think you were happy with it," he said. "Not at the time."

"I wasn't happy. Not at all. I'm still not exactly happy," Merry replied. "I don't agree with you, Pippin. I don't think that lad deserves any mercy at all, not after what he did. But still, you believe he does deserve mercy, and you spoke well for him. It was a brave thing to do, to speak for someone like that, and you did it well, and I have to admit that I'm proud of you."

Pippin brightened. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him. "Merry, I was so worried --" he began, then realized that he was feeling too many things to put into words. "Thank you," he settled.

Merry laughed, and reached across the table to ruffle Pippin's hair, as he had done when they were children. "Oh, Pip, you silly goose," he said. "You were afraid I wouldn't be your friend any more, right?"

Pippin smiled sheepishly. "Right after I stopped talking, I looked at you, and I was sure I had thrown you away without meaning to," he admitted. "I don't think I ever felt worse, but I couldn't take it back, and I didn't want to, either."

"It'll never happen," Merry said. "You'll always be my cousin and my best friend, whether we agree or no. Look, old Legolas and Gimli could manage it after a few months together, and we've got all our lives to fall back on."

"And Mistress Estella likely had a hand in it, too," Sam said, with a twinkle in his eye. Estella blushed.

"We had a long talk together, Merry and I," she said. "We talked about, well, about a lot of things. I don't think Grig deserves mercy, either, not after all those Hobbits dead and . . . and all the hurt he did." Her voice trailed off as she wrapped an arm around her abdomen. Then she shook herself and looked up again. "He doesn't deserve a bit of mercy. But I'm glad you thought he did anyway. There's been too much hurt already, and it's got to stop somewhere. It's a fine Hobbit that can find the strength to stop the hurting."

"That's why I did it, in the end," Sam said. "I thought, the only way to punish him would be to kill him, and if I killed him, well, I'd be just as bad as he is. I wouldn't be able to live with myself afterwards if I did. And that's what we need to do now. We need to live as well as we can."

They smiled at each other around the table for a moment. Then Pippin yawned. It was time to go to sleep and make an end to the long, hard day. Tomorrow the sun would rise again, and they would be able to go on with their lives at last.

END

****

Afterword

My goodness, that turned out to be a long final chapter. Thank you all for sticking through this tale. I do hope you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed the reactions, the speculations and the astonishing amount of sympathy for the characters. It's interesting to see what parts of the story move people the most. Often, they're not the parts I would expect.

Because I know that someone will call me on this, a few words about the trial. Kids! Do not try this case at home! This case would not stand up in an American court of law. Tolkien's description of the Shire is of a somewhat utopian society with very little government or crime and, I am assuming, not much of a criminal justice system. He does mention the curious legal customs of the hobbits, but this is in reference to civil matters such as wills. The trial here is based partially on the inquisitorial justice system prevalent in continental Europe, where a panel of judges rather than a jury decides guilt or innocence. The verdict corresponds to the legal verdict "guilty but insane" which is in use in Ireland and some states in the United States. It acknowledges a person's culpability while directing his or her sentence towards psychiatric treatment rather than prison.

And finally, the bit you've been waiting for. As some of you have guessed, this story is based on the Hartford Circus Fire of 1944. Here is a brief overview of events. On July 6, 1944, the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus was playing a matinee in Hartford, CT, to a near-capacity crowd of about 9,000, when the tent caught fire. It had been waterproofed with a mixture of paraffin and gasoline, and burned like a candle. The tent, which was the size of a football field, burned completely to ash in under ten minutes, killing 167 people and injuring about 450. It remains one of the most impressive civil disasters in the area's history. 

While the official cause of the fire is "undetermined," most Hartford residents and most students of the fire believe that it was set. The most likely suspect, who died in 1997, was a man by the name of Robert Segee. Segee had been a fourteen-year-old drifter at the time of the fire, and had worked for the circus briefly while it was in Hartford. He was apparently without a family and was emotionally disturbed. In Ohio in 1950, he confessed to setting the Hartford Circus Fire (along with a string of other fires) under the influence of a hallucination he called the Red Man. The state of Connecticut never took this confession seriously, but Segee remains a likely suspect and was hassled by the press until his death. If you want to read more about the Hartford Circus Fire, I would most heartily recommend a book by Stewart O'Nan called "The Circus Fire." O'Nan is a novelist who wrote this nonfiction history of the fire, and if I could write as grippingly and as compellingly as he does, I would die a happy woman.


End file.
